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THE PHARISEES
The Sociological Background of Their Faith
I
Professor Morris Loeb, of
New York, the distinguished
chemist, scholar and public
worker, who died on
October 8, 1912, by his last
Will and Testament, created
a Fund under the following
terms: give and bequeath
to The Jewish Publication Society
of America the sum of Ten
Thousand Dollars as a permanent
fund, the income of which alone
shall, from time to time, be
utilized for and applied to
the preparation and publication
of a scholarly work devoted to
the interests of Judaism/’
The present work, published in
1938, is the second issued under
this Fund. The first, Saadia Gaon —
His Life and Works, by Henry
Maker, was published in 1921.
The third, The Jews in Spain —
Their Social, Political and
Cultural Life During the Middle
Ages, by Abraham A. Neuman, was
published in 1942. The fourth,
The Jewish Community — Its History
and Structure to the American
Revolution, by Salo Wittmayer Baron,
was published in 1942. The fifth,
The Jews of Ancient Rome, by
Harry J. Leon, was published in 1960.
This new edition of The Pharisees —
The Sociological Background of
Their Faith was made possible
by the generous participation of the
Stroock Publication Fund.
THE MORRIS LOEB SERIES
THE PHARISEES
The Sociological Background of Their Faith
LOUIS FINKELSTEIN
Chancellor and Solomon Schechter Professor of Theology
at the Jewish Theological Seminary of America
VOLUME
WITH SUPPLEMENT
I
THIRD EDITION
T he Jewish Publication
Society of America
Philadelfhia 1966—5726
Copyright © 1938, 1962 by
THE JEWISH PUBLICATION SOCIETY OF AMERICA
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any
form without permission in writing from the publisher: except by
a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed
in a magazine or newspaper.
Second Edition, Revised, 1940
Third Impression, 1946
Third Edition, Revised, 1962
Second Impression, 1966
Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 61-11709
Manufactured in the United States of America
SOL M. STROOCK
WHO, LIKE THE ANCIENT TEACHERS, COMBINES
IN HIMSELF PROFOUND LOVE OF MAN WITH THE
scholar’s reverence for LAW AND TRUTH.
OTHER BOOKS BY THE SAME AUTHOR
Jewish Self-Government in the Middle Ages
Kimhi’s Commentary on Isaiah
A Critical Edition of the Sifre on Deuteronomy
Ariba: Scholar, Saint and Martyr
Editor: The Jews: Their History, Culture,
AND Religion
TABLE OF CONTENTS
VOLUME I
Page
Foreword to the First Edition ix
Foreword to the Second Edition xxix
Foreword to the Third Edition xxxv
Introductory Note to the Third Edition xlyii
Chronological Table cxxxv
I. Introduction 1
II. Palestine and Its Divisions 7
III. Some Typical Variations of Custom 43
IV. The Customs of Jericho 61
V. The Origin of the Pharisees 73
VI, The Urbanity of the Pharisees 82
VII. The Social Background of the Pharisaic
Legislation 101
VIII. The Doctrine of the Resurrection and
Immortality 145
IX. The Angels 160
X. The Simple Life 186
XI. Providence, Determinism and Free Will 195
XII. The Plebeian Paradox 226
XIII. The Oral Law 261
XIV. Reverence for Man 281
XV. The Prophetic Ideal of Human Equality 292
XVI. The Origin of the Prophetic Doctrine
OF Peace 344
XVIL The Doctrine of Peace and the Pro-
phetic Movement 390
vii
TABLE OF CONTENTS
VOLUME II
Page
XVIII. The Ideals of Peace and Human Equality
During the Exile 443
XIX. Social and Political Conflict Under the
Persian Rule 500
XX. The Struggle Against Assimilation:
Judaism Becomes the Synagogue .... 546
XXL Hellenists, Hasideans and Pharisees . . . 570
Supplement
I. The Uniqueness of Pharisaism.. 627
II. The Background of the Sadducean Views. . . 637
III. The 'Am ha-Arez 754
IV. The Origin of the Sadducees and Boethu-
siANs as Sects 762
V. The Sociological Basis of the Controversies
WITHIN Pharisaism 780
Abbreviations 800
Appendix A. The Unity of Isaiah 40-66, and the
Place and Date of the Author 801
Appendix B. The Meaning of Ezekiel 1.1-2. . . 806
Appendix C. Additional Controversies Between
THE Sects 811
Notes 821
Notes to the Supplement 882
Bibliography 903
Index to Passages 949
Index to Subjects 973
viii
FOREWORD TO THE FIRST EDITION
The Pharisees constituted a religious Order of singular
influence in the history of civilization. Judaism, Chris-
tianity, and Mohammedanism all derive from this ancient
Palestinian Society; and through their influence in the
preservation and advancement of learning, it has become
the cornerstone of modern civilization. Even Buddhism
and Confucianism, which alone among other religions can
compare with it in depth of ethical teaching, fall far short
of it in the spread of their doctrines. Fully half of the world
adheres to Pharisaic faiths; only one fourth as many people
follow Confucius, and less than one sixth as many are
Buddhists.
What particularly distinguishes the Pharisees from all
other religious groups, is the fact that they achieved this
influence without sacrifice of their individuality, or com-
promise of their principles. Zoroastrianism, which set out
to be a world religion, remained the cult of Persia; Pharisa-
ism, which cherished no such ambitions, was adopted by
people thousands of miles from Palestine. Clearly the
Simeon ben Shattahs and Judah ben Tabbais of the Palestin-
ian academies served the world in a more profound manner
than they themselves imagined. They considered them-
selves teachers of Israel alone; they were destined to become
the mentors of mankind. The ideals which Paul and his
fellow Apostles carried with them out of Pharisaism into
the world proved of more lasting importance in history than
IX
X
FOREWORD TO i^RST EDITION
the battles of any general, or the discoveries of any philos-
opher. Time came when the researches of Aristotle were
forgotten, and the conquests of Caesar were rendered futile;
but never in the last nineteen centuries has the influence
of Pharisaism ceased to be felt wherever in the western
world civilized people have thought and worked.
Even more astonishing than the influence of Paul and
the Apostles on the Roman world, was that of Mohammed,
the camel-driver of Mecca, whom a few neighboring Jews
and Christians transformed into the founder of one of the
world’s foremost civilizations. Neither his time nor his
personality might have seemed particularly suitable for
the mission he undertook. The rabbinical schools in Pales-
tine had reached a low ebb; and those of Babylonia had
just completed the redaction of the Talmud and were
passing through a critical transformation. Rome was at
the nadir of its influence; and Constantinople was ruled by
bigoted obscurantists who had driven the schools of learning
into distant Persia.
Yet there was sufficient energy even in these ashes of
ancient Pharisaism to kindle a fire in the heart of the Arab,
which blazing forth in a mighty flame was within a century
to illumine the whole world. Civilization, which internecine
war had destroyed in Europe, found a new home prepared
for it in its most ancient cradle, that narrow ribbon of
fertile land, lining the Tigris-Euphrates, the eastern coast
of the Mediterranean, and the Nile. In time immemorial,
this singular strip of territory, the earliest scene of recorded
human conflict and intercourse, had been allegorically tele-
scoped into a compact Garden of Eden, the home of Adam,
the ancestor of the human race. The energies which Pharisa-
ism called out of the Arab Peninsula, brought new life to
FOREWORD TO FIRST EDITION
XI
this ancient country and made it once more the center of
world thought, commerce, and even government. The Arab,
last of Mediterranean races to be brought into the complex
of civilized life, became its focal center. The ignorant idolater
became an ardent monotheist, as well as an avid student
and an indefatigable teacher. From the Pyrenees to the
Indus, his disciples studied Arabic translations of ancient
Greek mathematical, medical, and philosophical works,
and added their own comments to them. Europeans,
entirely cut off from ancient classical literature, had to
rely on Latin versions of these Arabic and kindred Hebrew
texts. Thomas Aquinas, Albertus Magnus, and Duns
Scotus, three of the mightiest of medieval minds and the
builders of Europe’s intellectual renaissance, were the
disciples of Avicenna, Averroes, and the Jewish philosopher,
Maimonides.
The spread of Pharisaism to the ends of the Roman
Empire and throughout the Arabic world was not due, as
is commonly supposed, to the lack of opposing forces. Two
strong philosophical movements — Stoicism and Epicu-
reanism — each practically a religion, had tens of thousands
of adherents throughout the Roman Empire. The Stoics,
appealing primarily to Reason and Justice, had brilliant
exponents of their doctrine in the Greek slave, Epictetus,
and the Roman Emperor, Marcus Aurelius. The Epicureans,
relying on the natural attractiveness of their hedonistic
doctrine, had their poetical sweet-singing Lucretius. More
dangerous to infant Christianity than either of these move-
ments, was the dualistic religion of Mithras, which as late
as the third century C. E., challenged the advance of the
Church in almost every province of the Empire. Of Persian
origin, this religion, with its concept of a cosmic battle
xii POREWORD TO FIRST EDITION
between Good and Evil, had a subtle fascination for the
Roman legions. So powerful was this attraction, that a
synthesis between the dogmas of Mithraism and those of
Christianity was proposed in the form of Manichaeism ; and
that, too, had tens of thousands of adherents. Indeed Saint
Augustine himself was for a time a follower of that faith.
The Arabic world offered Pharisaism no rivals of the
type of Mithraism, Stoicism, or Epicureanism. Yet the
difficulties which the doctrine had to overcome among the
nomads might well have seemed insuperable to the con-
temporary observer. The Arabs of the seventh century
C.E. were involved in no such intellectual chaos as filled
the Roman Empire at the beginning of the Christian Era.
In spite of the conversion of scattered tribes to Judaism
and Christianity, the nomads generally were loyal to the
idolatry of their race. And the ignorant, self-indulgent,
uxorious Mohammed, who became the apostle to the Arabs,
was no Paul of Tarsus either in his intellectual or in his
moral attainments. The result of these difficulties is still
evident in Mohammedanism, which has no share in the
Jewish-Christian doctrines of world peace or the equality
of the sexes. But these deficiencies, grave as they are, do
not lessen the marvel of the rapid, dramatic, though neces-
sarily partial, victory of Pharisaism in the Arabic world.
To have brought the desire for learning and the apprecia-
tion of the ethical life and of God to the nomads, was a
magnificent achievement, though they were not won over
to a complete acceptance of Pharisaic dogma.
The victorious energy of Pharisaism did not inhere, as
is commonly supposed, merely in the doctrine of the Resur-
rection. This doctrine had been held by the Egyptians and
the Zoroastrians, long before the rise of Pharisaism; yet
FOREWORD TO FIRST EDITION
Xlll
neither of them was able to convert the world. And the
Pharisees, themselves, drew most of their converts not
from the gullible peasantry, but from the sceptical towns-
folk, who might have ventured to doubt the reality of an
eschatological promise.
Pharisaism won its world victory, as it won its initial
victory in Palestine, not through a promise, but by a fulfil-
ment. Its doctrines did not offer redemption; they brought
it. They were in effect an announcement of “freedom to all
the earth.” The submerged were the equals of the patri-
cians;* women were the equals of men; slaves were the
equals of masters. All alike were children of God, created
in His Image. The mere declaration of such principles
aroused the latent sense of human dignity in the breast of
the downtrodden, and he gratefully embraced the faith
which brought him such salvation and comfort.
The urban plebeian responded to the call more readily
than the rural serf, who was less conscious of enslavement.
The women of the city responded more readily than the
men for a subtler reason. They intuitively discovered in
Pharisaism that amalgam of urban perspicacity and rural
tenderness which had a natural appeal to them. A complete
analysis of this aspect of Pharisaism is impossible in the
limited space of this Foreword or even this book; it can only
be discussed in passing, below and in some of the relevant
chapters of the text.
The Arabic world which had no metropolitan plebeians,
and where the women were too degraded and enslaved to
share in any part of cultural life, was also attracted by the
*It 1 $ necessary to note that the words “plebeian” and “patrician” are used in
this book as general terms, and do not Imply any correlation between the classes
of Jerusalem and those of Rome.
XIV
FOREWORD TO FIRST EDITION
Pharisaic principle of human dignity; but, as we have seen,
it placed its own interpretation on the concept. Human
equality was limited to believers in Mohammed, and to
males. The women were to be kept as soulless tools of their
husbands, and the unbelievers were to be exterminated or
enslaved.
No wonder that such a mighty force, as Pharisaism proved
itself to be, had from the beginning both intense admirers
and bitter opponents, but few neutral observers or objective
students. The brilliant light which emanated from the
East either attracted or repelled men; it never left them
undisturbed. The royal family of Adiabene became con-
verted to Pharisaism, and some of its members left their
kingdom to reside in Jerusalem; Aquila, a Roman noble,
became a disciple of the rabbinical academies; Shemaya,
the foremost Pharisaic teacher of the age immediately be-
fore Herod, was of pagan descent. Frequently the Romans
who became converted to Palestinian religion were quite
unaware of the denominational differences which loomed
so large in Jerusalem. Like some modern Chinese, they
could not distinguish Judaism from Christianity, and con-
sidered them one faith. As a result, both Christianity and
Judaism claim these converts as their own; but obviously it
was the Pharisaism, common to both faiths, which won
them.
So rapidly did Pharisaism spread in the palaces of Rome
that the patricians became alarmed — not merely for their
gods, but for themselves. The Romans were a tolerant
people, but they drew the line at a religion which openly
preached the equality of mankind and the futility and
wickedness of war. Under the Emperor Tiberius the Jews
were for a time driven from Rome; later they were made the
FOREWORD TO FIRST EDITION
X'7
butt of satirical ridicule; and on occasion were forbidden to
practice their faith. The Christians, whose proselytizing
activity was more vigorous, were treated with correspond-
ingly greater severity, especially after they were recognized
as a separate sect. It is important to remember that it was
no special detail in either Christian or Jewish practice or
theology which evoked these harsh measures, but the
Pharisaic teachings and spiritual energy which were shared
by both. The Roman writer and general saw in the Jew
and the Christian who were so ready and even eager to die
for their faith, precisely what the earlier opponents of
Pharisaism had seen in the undivided sect — a group of
narrow-minded bigots.
For Pharisaism itself, the passage of the centuries has
by no means removed the ancient stigma. To this day,
the word “Pharisee” remains a byword; and is still inter-
preted in the Oxford English Dictionary as meaning, “a self-
righteous person; a formalist; a hypocrite.”
The animosity reflected in this usage is not to be associ-
ated merely with the family quarrel between the early
Christians and the main body of the Pharisees. It ante-
dates the beginnings of Christianity; and indeed an early
chronicler of Herod, whose words Josephus transcribes in
his Antiquities (XVII, 2.4) records it. “For there was,”
he says, “a certain sect of Jews, who valued themselves
highly upon the exact skill they had in the law of their
fathers; and made men believe they were highly favored
of God . . . These are those who are called the sect of the
Pharisees.” In the bitterness of conflict, it was natural for the
early Christians to apply these epithets to their former com-
rades, who continued loyal to unaltered Pharisaism. Never-
theless, the Pharisee and the Christian remained sufficiently
XVI
FOREWORD TO FIRST EDITION
close to regard one another with respect. Rabbi Eliezer
ben HyrcanuSj one of the most orthodox of the sages,
offered high praise to an interpretation of Scripture given
by an early Christian (Aboda Zara 17a); Paul, after his
conversion, still declared himself a Pharisee (Acts 23.6);
Gamaliel, the head of the Pharisees, was praised for his
learning and tolerance in saving the Apostles from punish-
ment (ibid. 5.34); a devout Pharisee was declared by Jesus
to be “not far from the Kingdom of God” (Mk. 12.34);
and Jesus himself, being asked what is the first of the com-
mandments, replied, as might any other Pharisee, “Hear,
O Israel; the Lord our God is one Lord” (ibid. 12.29).
Undoubtedly the Pharisees drew the energy which en-
abled them to remake world-thought, from the Prophets.
The passionate call of Isaiah, the plaintive cry of Jeremiah,
and the lofty exhortations of Deutero-Isaiah had at last
struck a responsive chord in men’s hearts. But what made
the chord so responsive? While the present inquiry deals
with the subject only indirectly, I believe it gives the answer
to this question. Pharisaism was Prophecy in action; the
difference is merely one between denunciation and renunci-
ation. The kinship is more than ideological, however;
it derives from the very nature and essence of the groups,
for the Pharisees were drawn from the same social classes
as the earlier prophetic following itself. The converts to
prophecy among other classes might render it lip-service
and even a certain measure of devotion; to the Pharisees
the words of the ancient seers were like flames of fire out
of their own hearts.
The true relation between Prophecy and Pharisaism is
illuminated by the recurrence of the same phenomenon
sixteen centuries later, in a country unknown to either
FOREWORD TO FIRST EDITION
XVII
Prophets or Pharisees, the England of the sixteenth and
seventeenth centuries. Once more, as in Palestine during
the eighth and third centuries B.C.E., there was gathered
into a growing metropolis — London — a group of traders
and artisans, capable of taking a cultural stand against the
dominant city patricians, ecclesiastics, and country gentry.
And once more did these plebeians feel the impact of pro-
phetic exhortation, for the English translation of the Scrip-
tures had just been made available to the people. And just
as the impact of Prophecy on the market place of Jerusalem
created Pharisaism, so its impact on the market place of
London created Puritanism.
The Puritans did not, of course, recognize themselves as
successors to the Pharisees; nor would they have wished
to identify themselves with the ancient Order. Yet such is
the power of circumstance that they were compelled to be
Pharisees, in spite of themselves! Thomas Huxley, who
could have known only part of the evidence for the kinship
between Puritanism and Pharisaism, was able to recognize
it, through the generosity of his spirit and his deep penetra-
tion. “Of all the strange ironies of history,” he says, “per-
haps the strangest is that the word ‘Pharisee’ is current as
a term of reproach among the theological descendants of
the sect of Nazarenes who, without the martyr spirit of
those primitive Puritans, would never have come into
existence. They, like their historical successors our own
Puritans, have shared the general fate of the poor wise men
who save cities.”
The researches into Pharisaism and Puritanism which
have been made since Huxley’s time, have confirmed this
amazing intuition. In their indefatigable energy, in their
devout piety, and in many aspects of their history, we are
XVlll
FOREWORD TO FIRST EDITION
continually discovering new points of resemblance between
the purists of Jerusalem at the beginning of the Christian
Era and those of London in the age of Elizabeth and the
early Stuarts. A strong sense of duty; an astonishing talent
for self-discipline; a hunger for learning; an inner, partially
unrecognized, urge for freedom; a curious mixture of ideal-
ism and realism; and, above all, profound but carefully
concealed aflFections; hatred of the ornate and devotion to
the simple; these and many other attributes of mind and
character mark Pharisaism and Puritanism as twin move-
ments, though they were born in different countries and in
utterly different times.
This resurgence of Pharisaism, in a somewhat different
guise, is so important for an appreciation of the original
Order, that it is appropriate to review, even cursorily, some
of the evidence of kinship between the two movements.
The two foremost literary figures of Puritanism (using the
term in its broadest sense) in the seventeenth century were,
of course, John Milton and John Bunyan, both of whom had
a large admixture of Pharisaism in their thought. Milton
may decry the rabbinic sages, and “ask the Talmudist
what ails the modesty of his marginal Keri, that Moses and
all the prophets cannot persuade him to pronounce the
textual Chetiv,” but the very Areopagitica in which he
makes this charge is an argument for the intellectual free-
dom which is the basis of Pharisaism! His paradoxical sym-
pathy for the rebel, as personified in Satan and his cohorts,
and for authority as hypostasized in God, which helps to
make Paradise Lost so moving an epic, was characteristic
of the original Pharisaism. The Pharisees loved the Temple,
but opposed the priests. The Pharisees could not, like the
Sect of Damascus and the Christians, withdraw from the
FOREWORD TO FIRST EDITION
XIX
Jerusalem ritual; and yet they would not have hesitated to
call their contemporary clerics, as Milton did those of his
day, “blind mouths” — bishops who do not see, and shep-
herds who consume their flocks.
John Bunyan rejects the “burden of the Law,” but on
every page of his Pilgrim’s Progress reveals himself as a
resurrected Pharisee. Christian struggling through the
Slough of Despond or writhing in the hands of the Giant,
Despair, might be a personification not only of Bunyan
himself, but of a host of rabbinic students, who lived a
millennium before him. The advice which Pappias gave
R. Akiba, or that which R. Jose ben Kisma gave R. Hanina
ben Teradyon, might have come verbatim from Worldly
Wiseman. “This government of Rome has been appointed
from Heaven,” the “prudent” counsellors said. “You can
see for yourself that she has destroyed God’s Temple, and
burned His city, and murdered His saints, and yet she
flourishes. Why then do you not obey her decree, and
desist from teaching the Torah to your disciples?” (Aboda
Zara 18 a). And when the ancient pilgrims replied with
simple faith, “God will have mercy;” what comment would
Worldly Wiseman have made, other than that of R. Jose
ben Kisma, “I am talking common sense to you; and you
say, ‘ God will have mercy.’ ”
It is perhaps no coincidence that at one time in his life
Bunyan actually fancied himself an Israelite; and John
Milton immersed himself deeply not only in the Hebrew
Scriptures, but in rabbinic tradition as well.
Seen in the light of these facts, the curious affection of
the seventeenth century pietists, generally, for the Hebrew
language and even Hebrew nomenclature, assumes a new
significance. The Hephzibahs and Mehitabels, the Leahs
XX
FOREWORD TO FIRST EDITION
and the Rachels, whose names we still find on old New
England tombstones, prove that the inner spirit recognized
the relationship with ancient Hebraism, even when the
conscious mind denied it. It is even more striking that the
opponents of Puritanism grasped its similarity to ancient
Pharisaism. Ben Jonson does not hesitate to caricature his
contemporary Puritan as “Rabbi Busy”, and make him
speak like a hair-splitting casuist. And the Oxford Dic-
tionary which cites such irreverent remarks about the
Pharisees, also quotes an early seventeenth century source
where “Puritan” is used in the sense of “hypocritical,
dissembling.” As so often happens, the critical was accused
of being hypercritical, and the hypercritical of being hypo-
critical.
The most striking resemblance between the Pharisees
and the Puritans lay in their destiny. Both struggled to
overcome the tendency toward luxury, licentiousness, and
autocracy; both were driven by the logic of their views to
extreme asceticism; both were accused of the divergent sins
of profligacy and bigotry; both sought to retain the rural
virtues of forthrightness and tenderness, together with the
urban virtues of intellectualism and discipline; both became
involved in civil wars; both discovered that force could not
bring them anything but ultimate defeat; and, finally, both
found their fulfilment, at least in a sense, not in the lands
which gave them birth, but in distant countries, whither
they were driven by the force of circumstance. The apogee
of Pharisaism is the Talmud of Babylonia; that of Puritan-
ism is the culture of New England.
The spread of a modified Pharisaism to the ends of the
earth has fortunately not prevented the endurance through-
out the centuries of the unchanged faith, in Rabbinic
FOREWORD TO FIRST EDITION
XXI
Judaism. Pharisaism became Talmudism, Talmudism be-
came Medieval Rabbinism, and Medieval Rabbinism be-
came Modern Rabbinism. But throughout these changes
of name, inevitable adaptation of custom, and adjustment
of Law, the spirit of the ancient Pharisee survives unaltered.
When the Jew reads his prayers, he is reciting formulae
prepared by pre-Maccabean scholars; when he dons the
cloak prescribed for the Day of Atonement and Passover
Eve, he is wearing the festival garment of ancient Jerusalem;
when he studies the Talmud, he is actually repeating the
arguments used in the Palestinian academies.
Nor is it merely the outer accoutrements of Pharisaism
which have survived in his life; the spirit of the doctrine
has remained quick and vital. The story of this achievement
has not yet been fully told; it lies concealed in the history
of the repeated persecutions to which the later bearers of
Pharisaism were subjected. When ultimately the frag-
mentary record is pieced together, it will be discovered as
an epic, replete with heroic adventure. From Palestine to
Babylonia; from Babylonia to North Africa, Italy, Spain,
France, and Germany; from these to Poland, Russia, and
eastern Europe generally, ancient Pharisaism has wandered.
In the midst of new conditions of life, faced with new worlds
of thought, the disciples of the Pharisees have sought on
the one hand to preserve the old, and on the other to create
the new. With the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries their
energies began to wane, and an unprecedented we 0 .kness
appeared in their academies. This was, however, but for
the moment. The enlightenment of the eighteenth and
nineteenth centuries produced spirits of diverse types, yet
united in their common loyalty to the ancient teaching, in
Rabbi Israel Baal Shem Tob (ca. 1700-1760) the founder of
xxu
FOREWORD TO FIRST EDITION
the modern Hasidic movement. Rabbi Elijah Gaon of Wilna
(1720-1797) the founder of the critical school of Talmudical
exegesis, and Moses Mendelssohn (1729-1786) the creator
of a renewed synthesis between traditional Judaism and
the learning of the West.
As recently as the latter half of the nineteenth century,
there were rabbis who in their mode of life, in their courage,
and in their realization that the Law was given man for his
happiness, were the equals of the greatest of the Pharisaic
or the Talmudic sages. I am especially mindful of the lives
and activities of two of these men, because my father, to
whose inspiration I am so much indebted, in his youth
stood in close touch with them — Rabbi Isaac Elhanan
Spektor (1817-1896), a statesman-scholar, and Rabbi Israel
Salanter (ca. 1800-1883), a saintly ascetic, and founder of
the Musar (ethicist) movement in Lithuanian Judaism.
A number of incidents recorded of the lives of these men
indicate how nearly they approached the ancient Pharisees
in their human pity and realization that the Law was given
to man for his happiness and his development. It is impos-
sible to cite these stories here, but reference may be made
to the excellent biography of Rabbi Israel Salanter in
Professor Louis Ginzberg’s Students, Saints and Scholars,
and to the brief statement about Rabbi Isaac Elhanan
Spektor in the Jewish Encyclopedia.
The lives of these men, and numerous others like them,
demonstrate the enduring importance which attaches to
Pharisaism as a religious movement. Yet it would have
been alien to the purpose of this book to consider the Order
from this point of view. This inquiry is essentially historical
and sociological, seeking to determine how the Pharisees
came into existence, and what their distinctive teachings
FOREWORD TO FIRST EDITION
xxm
were. It is based primarily on the objective, almost scientific,
approach of the Talmud, and its kindred writings. The
apologetic literature which the long series of polemics against
Pharisaism has evoked from its friends, has no prototype
in the Talmud. With engaging candor, that ancient work
informs us that there are seven types of Pharisee, only one
of whom attains the ideal of “serving God out of love for
Him” (Sotah 22b). It cites, with approval, the warning of
the dying King, Alexander Jannaeus, to his wife: “Have no
fear of the Sadducees, nor yet of the Pharisees. But beware
the hypocrites who do the work of Zimri, and seek the
reward of Phineas!” (ibid.). In several instances the argu-
ments of both the Pharisees and the Sadducees relating to
moot questions of law are cited, and we are enabled to see
the Sadducean teaching from their point of view.
No less significant for the purpose of this study than the
Talmud’s judicial approach to the Pharisees, is its objective
evaluation of city and rural life. If one marries a woman
from the country, it rules, one cannot compel her to remove
to the city, “for life in the cities is hard” (Ketubot 110b).
Nor, conversely, if one marries a woman from the city can
one compel her to remove to the country, “for everything
is available in the city” (ibid.). Ezekiel, who described the
Heavenly Chariot in detail, was “like a villager who sees
the King;” Isaiah who used a few simple sentences for his
theophany, was “like a townsman who sees the King”
(Hagigah 13b).
While these statements are almost unique in their judicial
objectivity, the recognition of rural-urban differences is by
no means rare in ancient literature. The Scriptures, signifi-
cantly, attribute the construction of the first city to Cain,
the fratricide (Gen. 4.16); and that of the second city to
Xxiv FOREWORD TO FIRST EDITION
the arrogant men who built the Tower of Babel (Gen. 11.4).
Classical writers exhaust their vocabulary in descriptions
of the mendacity, cowardice, and pusillanimity of city-
folk. Aristophanes makes the simple farmer, Strepsiades,
amuse us by ascribing all of his misfortunes to marriage
with a city wife:
“Ah! then I married — la rustic — her
A fine town-lady, niece of Megacles.
A regular, proud, luxurious, Coesyra ...”
“Well, when at last to me and my good woman
This hopeful son was born, our son and heir,
Why then we took to wrangle on the name.
She was for giving him some knightly name,
‘Callippides,’ ‘Xanthippus,’ or ‘Charippus:’
I wished Theidonides,’ his grandsire’s name.
Thus for some time we argued: till at last
We compromised it in Pheidippides.
This boy she took, and used to spoil him, saying,
Ohl when you are driving to the Acropolis, clad
Like Megacles, in your purple; whilst I said
Ohl when the goats you are driving from the fells,
Clad like your father, in your sheepskin coat.
Well, he cared nought for my advice, but soon
A galloping consumption caught my fortunes.”
The tirade against the city did not, of course, end with
the ancient world; it has continued practically until our
own day. The poet Cowley, like Varro and Rabelais before
him, notes that:
“God the first garden made, and the first city, Cain.”
FOREWORD TO FIRST EDITION
XXV
Our own Thomas Jefferson echoes the ancient Cato’s praise
of the farmer; and in the middle of the Victorian age, Betsey
Trotwood vigorously asserted her conviction that a chicken
bought in a London shop might be anything, but could
hardly be a fowl.
In our own generation, Oswald Spengler devoted two
massive volumes to the proof that urbanization means the
destruction of the world, and predicted that western civili-
zation would fall under the weight of city life.
As we glance through this literature, of which only the
smallest fragment can be cited here, it becomes clear that
the rural-urban conflict is one of the few constants in the
recorded history of civilization. Amazing as it must seem
at first glance, the ancient townsman, who lived in what
we should regard as a little village, considered his neighbor,
in a still smaller hamlet, a provincial, and treated him with
condescension or contempt. The vineyards, granaries, and
threshing floors which lay within a few miles of Jerusalem
were spiritually as far from its market place, as the modern
farm is from our own industrial centers. To the visitor from
Ono or Anathoth, the noise of Jerusalem was as deafening,
its metropolitan excitement as confusing, and its sophistica-
tion — to us so simple and transparent ■ — as overwhelming,
as those of the modern metropolis, with its millions of
inhabitants and its endless traffic, are to the contemporary
provincial. The reason for this is obvious: man’s intellectual
and emotional responses to differences of social environment
are conditioned by relative, rather than by absolute, space.
It is a question of time and ease of access, rather than of
simple distance.
The permanence of the rural-urban conflict suggests the
possibility that the formula for dealing with it may be
XXvi FOREWORD TO FIRST EDITION
equally permanent. It is futile to deny that despite its many
advantages, urbanization involves grave perils for the human
race. A predominantly urban culture tends to become
prosaic, self-centered, materialistic, and cynical. And even
graver than the influence of the city on its inhabitants, is
that which it frequently exerts on the neighboring country-
side. The peasant who comes into fleeting contact with
urban life tends to absorb its weakness, without gaining its
strength. He imitates its vices, but cannot attain to its vir-
tues. His faith is shaken, his family loyalties are loosened,
his forthrightness is perverted. But only rarely does he sub-
stitute for these losses the intellectual or cultural vigor which
makes city life a true civilization. Hence, long after the city
trader has outgrown the habits of childish suspicion, shrewd
bargaining, and foxy disingenuousness, these tendencies can
still be found in the semi-urbanized peasantry. Given
appropriate conditions, the city may produce the Pharisee
and the Puritan; the decadent countryside can only rise to
the Pharisaical and the puritanical.
It is this wider spiritual decay which is reflected in three
symptoms which Eduard Meyer, almost half a century ago,
recognized as presaging the collapse of ancient Rome: a
decreasing birthrate; a large group of economically uprooted,
who had to be supported by the State; and a weakened
sense of communal responsibility, particularly on the part
of the intellectuals.*
The extent to which the spiritual disintegration character-
istic of later Rome has affected our own life is a subject of de-
bate; but there can belittle doubt of the reappearance through-
out the civilized world of all three symptoms which Eduard
* Eduard Meyer, Kleine Schriften, pp. 147 fF.
FOREWORD TO FIRST EDITION
xxvn
Meyer enumerates. Nor can there be any question of the
widespread fear that political antagonisms are moving
toward the destruction of our inherited civilization. Perhaps
at such a time the ancient amalgam of urbanity and rusticity,
the intellectual rus in urbe, which formulated itself succes-
sively in the profoundly spiritual movements of Prophecy
and Pharisaism may be studied not only out of curiosity or
historical interest, but also for guidance.
The thesis presented in this work was first proposed, in a
simpler form, in an article published through the courtesy
of Professors G. F. Moore and James Ropes in Harvard
Theological Review, XXII (1929), pp. 185-261. Feeling
that the subject required further analysis, I continued my
researches, and in 1933 prepared the first draft of the present
book. This was read by a number of scholars and friends,
including President Cyrus Adler, Professor Julius A. Bewer,
Professor Philip Leon, President Julian Morgenstern, Mr.
Maurice Samuel, and Professor Charles C. Torrey. The
fundamental criticisms which they oflFered induced me to
undertake a complete revision of the work, which I present
herewith.
The extent to which I relied on the basic researches made
by others is indicated in the bibliography as well as in the
notes, where mention is made of several oral communica-
tions which I have used for the present study. In addition
to this assistance, I have received help from my wife, and a
large number of friends who, I know, would prefer to remain
anonymous. I must, however, express my gratitude to Pro-
fessor A. D. Nock, the present editor of the Harvard Theo-
logical Review, for his permission to reproduce verbatim
XXVlll
FOREWORD TO FIRST EDITION
those parts of the article just mentioned, which are relevant
to the present work; and to the librarians of the Jewish
Theological Seminary of America, the Union Theological
Seminary, the Dropsie College, the Hebrew Union College,
the Jewish Institute of Religion, Columbia University, and
the New York Public Library, for their unfailing courtesy.
Part of Chapter XV was printed in The Menorah Journal^
XXIV (January, 1936).
The transliteration used in this work is that adopted by
the Jewish Publication Society for all of its books.
The English translation of the Hebrew Scriptures issued
by the Jewish Publication Society of America (1917) has been
used, in general, for quotations from the Bible.
The abbreviation “R.” is used for Rabbinic Sages, who
bore the title Rabbi or Rab, and lived in talmudic times.
Those who lived after the close of the Talmud are described
as “Rabbi.”
When used for a book title the word Akiba refers to the
present author’s Akiba: Scholar, Saint, and Martyr.
FOREWORD TO THE SECOND EDITION
Pharisaism is the anomaly of religious history. Nationalist
and ritualistic in origin, it became universal and philosophic
in outlook. Though it admitted but thousands to formal
membership, it included millions — of whom many were not
Jews — among the believers in its doctrine. The Pharisees
disappeared as an organized society in the third century of
the Christian Era, but their influence on western spiritual
thought still endures.
Two antagonisms, neither of which has any valid basis,
stand in the way of a sociological study of Pharisaism. One
is the antagonism between the social sciences and religion;
the other is that among the religious faiths themselves.
The disregard of social science by the theologian has been
due in large measure to misunderstanding. The facts, and
even the theories of social science, are entirely consistent
with religious teachings. The theories of the humble origin
of religious ceremonial iu-e no more disconcerting to the
theologian than the theory of evolution. Even the doctrine
of the material basis of the intellectual life is no denial of
religion. Like other scientific observations and theories, it
becomes a factor in the philosophy of religion, indicating
for the religious thinker one of the ways in which human
society has been impelled toward higher planes of civilization.
The hostility of some sociologists to religious thought is
not inherent in the science. Humility comes to sciences, as
to individuals, only with maturity. Given further develop-
ment and more adequate research, the social sciences must
WX
XXX
FOREWORD TO SECOND EDITION
inevitably prove as valuable to religious thought as the
natural sciences. Indeed, social science may prove even
more valuable; for the natural sciences can be helpful only
in the development of religious philosophy, while the intro-
spective sciences can advance also the technique of religious
teaching.
The contribution which sociology can make to religion is
illustrated by a study of the Pharisees. The sect came into
being in the second century B.C.E., just before ancient civi-
lization, having attained its complete expression in Greek
philosophy and Roman imperial administration, began to
show signs of decay. Factional in its beginnings, Pharisaism
finally became the religion of the Jewish people. From them
its major dogmas spread to the ends of the Roman empire.
When the empire fell, the Pharisaic tradition helped pre-
serve much of classical civilization from destruction.
Told as a simple chronicle, the story assumes the propor-
tions of an epic. Its meaning is enhanced, rather than
diminished, by sociological study which demonstrates that
the founders of the sect built far better than they knew.
Tradesmen of ancient Jerusalem, they thought they were
banding together for the protection of their ritual. Actually,
they were laying the foundations for a world civilization.
The sociological study of Pharisaism has been further im-
peded by the misunderstandings among the religious faiths.
Dogmatic theology is rightly suspicious of partial agreement.
The experience of centuries has taught religions to beware
the dangers which lurk in half-truths. “Travelers from one
religion to another,” Santayana wisely remarks, “people who
have lost their spiritual nationality, may often retain a
neutral and confused residuum of belief, which they may
egregiously regard as the essence of all religion, so little
FOREWORD TO SECOND EDITION
XXXI
may they remember the graciousness and naturalness of
that ancestral accent which a perfect religion should have.”
The very indebtedness of modern religions to Pharisaic doc-
trine has thus compelled theologians to stress the extent
of their deviation from it. Nevertheless, there is so much
common to all western, theistic religion — the doctrine of God
and Man, the belief in the sanctity of truth, and the value
of mercy — that the antipathy between the various religious
traditions is tragic. Theological distinctions may be recog-
nized and even stressed without being transformed into reli-
gious animosities. The recognition of the enduring value of
the different religious traditions of the western world, both
Jewish and Christian, is entirely consistent with an appreci-
ation of their common heritage.
This thesis is not based on the assumption that the early
Christians were members of the Pharisaic Order. Obviously
they were not. But among the merits of Pharisaism was
its ability to differentiate from the very beginning between
acceptance of its dogma and adherence to the Order. The
number of haberim, regularly enrolled Pharisees, was small;
that of the co-workers of the Order was large, including the
Essenes, the Therapeutae, the Sect of Damascus, and the
early Christians.
Josephus was careful to draw this distinction between
membership in the Order and the acceptance of its chief
tenets, when he describes his own relation to Pharisaism
(L/>,8).
The Alexandrian Jews who inquired of Hillel (the Pharisaic
leader of Herod’s day) about the legality of their betrothal
customs (Tosefta Ketubot 4.9) were like Josephus not mem-
bers of the Order, but followers of its precepts. Had these
Alexandrines been Pharisees, their betrothal customs would
XXXll
FOREWORD TO SECOND EDITION
have been identical with those of Palestine. Their deviation
from Palestinian custom marks them as non-Pharisaic; their
inquiry to Hillel reflects their acceptance of the Pharisaic
interpretation of the Law.
The Pharisaic movement thus transcended by far the
Pharisaic Order. Nothing is more vital for an understanding
of Palestinian religious history than a clear appreciation of
this fact. The ability of the Pharisee to impress his doctrine
on others without drawing them into the Order was a direct
outgrowth of the discovery of religious dogma. The Pharisee
did not demand universal obedience to his discipline. He
sought primarily an admission of his philosophical truth
and an acceptance of his universal ethics. To admit the
belief in the Resurrection or the validity of the Oral Law
was perhaps not as righteous as to accept the full “y®^®
the Law.” But it was far better than associating oneself
with the Sadducees by a denial of the Pharisaic doctrines.
He who violated a Pharisaic interpretation transgressed the
Law; he who rejected a major Pharisaic dogma lost his
immortality.
This idea and the technique it introduced was as impor-
tant in the history of religious teaching as the Macedonian
phalanx in the history of military tactics. In this way the
faith was spread, but was not diluted. The Pharisee of the
second century of the Christian era was as firm, as devout,
and as uncompromising, as his ancestor three hundred years
earlier.
As Professor Frank Gavin and others have intimated,
this form of organization was also adopted by the early
Christian community. It, too, was a haburah, an associ-
ation, which spread its doctrine to all, but admitted to its
membership only the limited few.
FOREWORD TO SECOND EDITION
XXXIU
But the relation of Church and Synagogue during the
first century was even closer than that indicated by the
similarity of doctrine and of organization. The two institu-
tions were so intimately related, that the changes introduced
in the one necessarily affected the other. Thus, the estab-
lishment of an obligatory evening service in the Synagogue
was almost immediately followed by the establishment of a
similar service in the early Church.*
The intolerance of the Middle Ages did not entirely
destroy this close relationship between the Church and
the Synagogue. There is a similarity between their music,
between many of the rites introduced into their worship,
and even between many of their later forms of organization.
The history of the rabbinical synods of the Middle Ages
bears a close resemblance to that of the Church synods;
there was a close association between the Jewish, Christian
and Mohammedan scholastics; and there is even a sugges-
tion in the Book of the Pious** that the habits and ways
of the Jews in the different communities varied as did those
of their Christian neighbors.
To recognize the kinship of the faiths derived from the
Prophets is not to advocate their reduction to any common
denominator. The three faiths, and their subdivisions, have
*Thc evidence that the evening service became obligatory in the synagogue
only toward the end of the first century C.E, is to be found in B. Berakot 27b.
The Book of Acts which is sometimes cited as a source for three daily services
in the early Christian Church (cf. W. O. E. Oesterley, The Jewish Background of
the Christian Liturgy^ p. 125) actually refers only to two services. The prayer of
the ninth hour mentioned in Acts 3.1, was identical with the prayer which was
recited *‘about the sixth hour*' (Acts 10.9). It was the afternoon service, and might
be recited either early or late in the afternoon. The first reference to three serv-
ices in the Church occurs, thei-efore, in the Bidache 8, the date of which is
generally fixed at about the year 100 C.E.
**Book of the Pious, ed. Bologna, section 1101,
XXXIV
FOREWORD TO SECOND EDITION
come into existence to fulfill purposes of which we can be
only vaguely aware. But in view of the modern attacks on
all theistic religion, the future strength and development of
these faiths may depend as much on their cooperation as
on the preservation of their individuality. Working together
with the sciences, these faiths may be able to create the
synthesis of science and theology needed to guide men out
of the intellectual confusion of our time. The events of the
last decade have demonstrated that science and liberalism
cannot survive in a world bereft of religion; and that religion
cannot survive in a world bereft of liberty and science.
Out of man’s present spiritual chaos may emerge an
ordered, pluralistic universe of thought. It will be a universe
in which the principle of federalism is applied to the realm
of the spirit, as it has been to the realm of political life.
Unity will be achieved with no sacrifice of liberty; coop-
eration without imposing uniformity.
Through the generosity of the Jewish Publication Society,
some errors in the text have been corrected, and a map of
Palestine during the Second Commonwealth and a chrono-
logical table have been added in this edition of The Pharisees.
In making the corrections, I have had the assistance of
valuable oral and written communications from several
friends to whom I am profoundly grateful.
FOREWORD TO THE THIRD EDITION
It is customary to think of modern civilization as dynamic
and developing, and of the ancient world as static and
lethargic. This is largely correct, so far as the knowledge and
control of the material world are concerned. A single decade
of the twentieth century probably sees greater advances in
therapeutic medicine, in the physical and the biological
sciences, in technology and in industry than all the aeons be-
fore the Industrial Revolution. Progress in these fields has
also aflFected, stimulated, and even revolutionized the social
and psychological sciences, some types of historical research,,
and a few humanistic disciplines.
Yet this progress in many specific skills is distressingly
associated with virtual stagnation, if not retrogression, in the
area of thought where some of the ancients, at certain periods
and in certain places, proved themselves so remarkably re-
sourceful and creative — the development of wisdom. Buddha
and Confucius did not invent a flying machine, but they set
in motion human impulses which have made life eminently
livable and significant for millions of their fellow men.
Whatever be the drawbacks of the systems which grew out
of these teachings and others like them, they have helped to
give zest and meaning to individual and group existence and
to soften the harshness of conflict between man and man.
Karl Marx's indictment of religion as the opiate of the
people could be made only by one without sympathy for the
real agony of mankind. To enable men to see in the per-
spective of the ages (as did Buddha and his peers in other
traditions) the tragedies to which all flesh is heir, and to re-
XXXV
XXXvi FOREWORD TO THE THIRD EDITION
main serene amid the confusions of life, is no small achieve-
ment.
Bertrand Russell observes that the only real contribution
of religion to civilization was the determination of certain
astronomical data by the ancient Egyptians. To arrive at
this conclusion, he must equate civilization with the growth
of natural science, and hold inconsequential the development
of the saints found in all great religions together with a
degree of saintliness in the level of conduct by large multi-
tudes. It is astonishing that in a few generations antiquity
produced in such widely dispersed areas as China, India, the
Middle East, and Greece, men of such wisdom and enduring
influence for good as Lao Tze, Confucius, Buddha, Zoroaster,
the Second Isaiah, Ezra the Scribe, and Socrates. Why all
these protagonists of revolutionary approaches to life and its
problems appeared at approximately the same time, al-
though in different regions, still remains a mystery. But
there can be little doubt of their enduring importance in
human affairs and their significance for the destiny of man-
kind.
The magnificent achievements of the ancient sages were
both culmination of long processes of increasing wisdom and
beginning of new efforts, deepening human insight and en-
lightening the mind of man. The present book is an effort to
discern some of the socio-psychological forces which helped
mould one of these efforts, namely, that of Ezra and his
followers, and to perpetuate its influence.
This is — hopefully — the first in a series of monographs
(one other in print — Akiba: Scholar^ Saint and Martyr — but
several in manuscript or in first drafts) showing how the
disciples of Ezra, calling themselves Hasideans, and ulti-
mately dubbed Pharisees, came into being. The series will
FOREWORD TO THE THIRD EDITION
XXXVll
ultimately describe the difficulties they encountered from
men who had special skills but lacked the very wisdom the
Pharisees sought to inculcate; how the Pharisees laid the
foundation for all Western religion; how they overcame the
obstacles in their way; and how they survived through wise
insight. It is also necessary to understand the nature of the
opposition to them and their predecessors, the prophets; and
to recognize why in some generations opponents who seemed
right in the immediate crisis proved wrong in the perspective
of man’s enduring crisis — his effort to make his brief stay
on earth bearable. The Pharisees will be seen as materially
disadvantaged people who found life a delightful experience,
who looked forward serenely to old age and to death, who
rejoiced in each of God’s works, and who yet shunned the
intoxicating diversions of momentary pleasure, of temporal
success, and of what Rabbi Elijah Gaon of Wilna called
“seeming glory.” Had their counsel been taken seriously in
the highest quarters of the realm, the Roman Empire might
have escaped the agony of dissolution and thus spared man-
kind the horrors of the Dark Ages.
“The beginning of wisdom,” says the author of Proverbs
(1.7) “is fear of the Lord,” or correctly, “awe before the
Lord.” For the Pharisees, all discussions regarding private
and public life began with the implied question, “What is
God’s pleasure?” In other words, “What is right in the sight
of the cosmic Creator of all mankind?” They did not ask
“What is more convenient or comfortable?” or “What is
more likely to lead to worldly success?” No wonder that
Eduard Meyer with uncanny historical insight regarded
them as “unworldly.” They were unworldly, if worldliness
means the sacrifice of ultimate goals to individual or national
“success,” which in their very nature must be ephemeral, no
XXXviii FOREWORD TO THE THIRD EDITION
matter how prolonged. On the other hand, the Pharisees
did not, like the Essenes (who may or may not have been
identical with the sect of the Qumram Scrolls), withdraw
from participation in world affairs. They never flinched from
meeting problems which were difficult, and never desisted
from answers which seemed demanding.
The Pharisees lived in a way other traditions might expect
only from members of Holy Orders, but followed these stan-
dards in the market place, in lowly homes, in royal courts,
when they walked by the way, when they lay down, and when
they arose. Their material concerns became secondary to
those of the spirit, and the business of God was the core of
their lives.
Their distinctive way of life did not negate the possibility
of others achieving similar moral discipline in other ways.
They did not deny the existence of “saints of peoples of the
world.” On the contrary, the Pharisees held that these saints
were on a level with those of their own faith. But the Phari-
sees were keenly aware of the peril of acculturation which,
destroying the spiritual and moral values absorbed from
parents and tradition, fails to provide the excellence available
in other traditions and in other ways. The Pharisees assumed
the Torah had been revealed to them for a Divine purpose
and it would be treason to God for them to use any other way
to Him, even if revealed to others, and no matter how much
more convenient that path might be.
They considered it the will of God that man should live
out his complete span of life. Martyrdom for the faith, or
to avoid murder or infringement of a woman’s chastity was
permitted and commanded. Except for such extreme circum-
stances, prolongation of life, even one’s own, was a cardinal
commandment. Therefore physicians were permitted and
FOREWORD TO THE THIRD EDITION
XXXIX
even encouraged to practice and study their science and art.
Not a goal in itself, length of life was valuable because, for
the good, it offered more opportunity for righteousness; for
the wicked, opportunity for repentance.
Moral and character education being the goal of life, the
duty to train his child was to the Pharisee no less important
than that to discipline himself.
Moderation has its uses, but these are secondary. Never
did the Pharisee forget that in the wise life almost all that
counts is excellence. Compromise with mediocrity in this
field was not for him. While varied individual gifts might
suggest different degrees of intellectual achievement, “he
who gives little and he who gives much are alike, provided
that their intention is alike to serve God.”
The modern reader may find it difficult to associate wise
insight with the arguments over ritualistic issues which
occupy many of the pages of this book and a large part of the
Supplement to the new edition. He may find even stranger
the grave debates over such questions as whether a prayer
service should open with the formula, “Blessed be the Lord,”
or “Blessed be the Lord, Who is blessed.” Few issues could
seem more remote from the development of wise outlook on
life and realistic perspectives on the world.
But these gestures were part of the harmonious good life
and could no more be taken lightly than notes in an opera or
symphony. The Pharisees and their predecessors insisted
that the whole world was a Divine Temple in which each man
served as priest. Their rituals of worship at home, in the
market place, and in the synagogue were as carefully thought
through as similar gestures in the Temple of Jerusalem by
the Aaronid priests. Naturally this doctrine seemed ob-
noxious to many Aaronid priests, and especially High Priests,
xl FOREWORD TO THE THIRD EDITION
who liked to believe that they alone were God’s courtiers on
earth.
The main ethical concern of the Pharisees and their prede-
cessors was never directly challenged by their opponents.
In general, no one minded their remarkable docility, their
extreme gentleness, their predisposition to anonymity, their
preoccupation with study, their philanthropy, their wide
humanitarianism, including charity toward their opponents.
Their theory of education might be deemed unsuitable for
children of the rich, because it placed so great a value on the
spiritual life as to discourage in some the virtues of thrift,
diligence, and hard work. Their theology, making the future
world of transcendent importance and reducing the present
one to the level of a corridor leading to immortal life, might
seem dangerous to the “practical-minded.” Not subjects of
debate, such disagreements rarely became part of the overt
historical record.
The ethical, theological, and educational views of the
opponents of the Pharisees have, in general, to be recon-
structed from stray hints scattered through the Rabbinic and
Jewish - Hellenistic literatures. Moreover, the Pharisaic
notions in these areas could not be reduced to norms and
were challenged within Pharisaism itself, when that move-
ment came to include a large number whose emotional out-
look was essentially Sadducean, even though they followed
the specific Pharisaic rituals.
When Pharisaism became Talmudism it did not lose its
basic character, and even in modern times its main exponents
have included such saintly figures as Rabbi Israel Salanter,
the Hafetz Hayyim, and the Hazon Ish. Yet the mask of
pure ritualism, which ultimately covered so much of life
under the Law, has frequently, for many of its lesser inter-
FOREWORD TO THE THIRD EDITION
xli
prefers, tended to conceal the reality. As Professor Louis
Ginzberg remarked, the Gaonic period, that is, the period in
Judaism from the seventh to the tenth centuries, failed to
produce a single luminary of first-rate brightness before the
emergence of Rab Saadia Gaon. Ironically, those accepting
the tradition of the selfless Hillel came to regard it simply as
ritual, and to forget that his basic teachings were primarily
a system of morals and ethics. Study itself became a ritual,
instead of a means of transforming the student.
When the nature of Pharisaism was forgotten its past was
re-created in the image of the lesser present. Hillel’s apo-
thegms were, indeed, remembered and repeated by rote. So
were the prayers composed by earlier Pharisees and Proto-
Pharisees. But their significance was lost for ever-widening
circles. The efforts of Rashi, Maimonides, the French Tosa-
fists, Nahmanides, and Rabbi Solomon ibn Aderet to get to
the heart of the talmudic discussions, “to study for the sake
of observing and doing,” were succeeded (as persecution and
harassment demanded their toll from the spirit as well as the
body of the Jewish community) by the invention of com-
plicated systems of argument and casuistry which obscured
rather than illumined the thought of the ancient Talmudists.
Thus the great and pregnant saying of Hillel that the “Il-
literate [i.e., the observant illiterate person] is not fearful of
sin [but only of its consequences], and the ‘am ha-are^'
[meaning not “the ignorant” as later usage had it, but the
contemporary peasant], no matter how careful of the ritual,
“will not be a hasid” or a lover of mankind, became [despite
the clear interpretation of Maimonides and Rabbenu Jonah]
perverted into the doctrine that “the ignorant cannot be
pious.”
, The clear relation of decisions in marginal cases to in-
xlii FOREWORD TO THE THIRD EDITION
evitable psychological and social predispositions of the
scholar, recognized in the Talmud and its great commen-
tators as both inevitable and useful, was completely over-
looked. The Palestinian Talmud was interpreted to conform
to that of Babylonia, the doctrines of Rabbi Ishmael to
those of Rabbi Akiba: placed, as it were, on a Procrustean
bed and the limbs of a great system hewn to suit the frame
derived from traditions one knew best.
Rebelling against this form of talmudic research, a group
of teachers following the example of Rabbi Elijah, the Gaon
of Wilna, initiated an effort to return to the sources of
Pharisaic inspiration, in which rabbinic studies were recog-
nized not merely as an end in themselves, but as instruments
for the betterment of individual and group behavior and
character. Another group of scholars, following the examples
of Rapaport and Geiger, applied to these sacred works the
canons of historical research adopted from the works of
classical scholars, and sought to create a school whose main
concern in Jewish studies would be reconstruction of the past.
There remains a vital task for our generation to which the
labors of both schools are available, to combine their merits
in an intensive study of the biblical and talmudic works for
the wisdom hidden in them. This wisdom often cannot be
distilled directly from the technical debates recorded in the
talmudic books. In these debates, each scholar sought to
persuade his opponents regarding the correctness of his own
point of view in specific matters. He could not appeal to his
personal predisposition as the premise of his argument, for
this slant was usually rejected as bias by his opponents. In-
evitably he resorted to a system of hermeneutics to which
his colleagues could not take exception. Thus the debates,
while invaluable for the light they shed on talmudic dialectic
FOREWORD TO THE THIRD EDITION
xliii
and biblical exegesis, do not in general reflect the underlying
logic which led to differences in the formulated or suggested
norms. To understand that reasoning, one has to penetrate
the lives of the individual scholars, the environment in which
they moved, the tradition which helped to mould their
thought. One then discovers totally different reasons, rarely
articulated, for the views the individual scholar or the group
upheld. It is these reasons, primarily, which indicate the
wisdom underlying the opposing courses of argument and
action.
The doctrine of the Immortality of the Soul became a
cornerstone of Pharisaism — not because of hints in the
Pentateuch or mention in the Prophets and the Hagiographa
— but because in an age of increasing materialism the
doctrine was an important pedagogical device for turning
man to spirituality. The Talmud gives many “proofs” of
man’s immortality, but its pragmatic, educational usefulness
is not one of them. Yet without recognition of this useful-
ness, the technical argument seems dry and sometimes forced.
The recovery of the inarticulate Talmud, implied in the
articulate, may be one of the great services which modern
scholarship can render the future as well as the past. The
student of the Talmud cannot believe that his tradition is
unique in this difference between what has been articulated
and what led to the articulation; between the social responsi-
bility which guided the thinker and the academic argument
in which he justified his stand to those too young to compre-
hend his basic motivation. If the type of analysis here
proposed has its analogue in other traditions, we may finally
discover why a late generation, accustomed as none before it
to utter candor and frankness in teachers and colleagues,
finds so many discussions of ancient traditions arid.
Xliv FOREWORD TO THE THIRD EDITION
A Study of the ethics of the Pharisees would thus include
analysis of their varying conceptions of holiness, the reason
underlying the passion of their earlier teachers for anonym-
ity, and the passion of later generations to preserve and
glorify the names of their teachers, the nature of their liturgy,
the relation of their theology to their rituals and moral in-
sights, the paradox by which they accepted opposing opinions
as equally acceptable to God.
The type of research which this book represents seems
indispensable groundwork for such further studies and
analyses. Neither this work, nor the ambitious ones sug-
gested, could have been undertaken or even imagined, with-
out the great contributions made to talmudic studies by a
series of scholars who lived in the first half of this century.
Among these one of the most eminent was the Hazon Ish,
whose significance will become apparent only as his studies
are fully mastered by disciples in the West, as well as those
in Israel. Of the scholars in the West, the leading figure
bringing talmudic study to new heights in the early decades
of this century was certainly Professor Louis Ginzberg who
was fortunate, as he often asserted, to have associated with
him Professor Alexander Marx. The immense erudition of
Professor Ginzberg and his clear insight into the meaning of
the Talmud were complemented by the energies of his great
colleague, who provided a library of unequalled wealth and
critical acumen of rare quality.
One of the privileges of my life was study under both these
scholars, and each page of this book attests my indebtedness
to them. During the past twenty years, I have had the rare
opportunity of a second education, through communion
with Professor Saul Lieberman, rightly considered “the
leader among those who speak in the field of Jewish knowl-
FOREWORD TO THE THIRD EDITION xlv
edge” in this generation, and through the study of his great
works which open a new era in talmudic studies.
It would be impossible to enumerate all the other scholars
— on the Faculty of The Jewish Theological Seminary of
America and elsewhere — and the laymen and women from
whom I have learned and who have helped, sometimes when
they least knew it, in the studies underlying these volumes.
I have learned much from my rabbinic colleagues and former,
as well as present, students, both when they have agreed with
my views and supplemented them and when they have dis-
sented and argued with me. Many an insight into what I
believe to be the real meaning of an ancient talmudic warning
came to me as I discovered in actual life the errors the Sages
had in mind. Equally often I have come to understand an
obscure passage in Scripture and Talmud as I heard modern
teachers struggling with the identical difficulty, but perhaps
with less penetration into the enduring facts of human
nature. Thus while my studies have offered me continuous
commentary on the present scene, the present scene has
frequently turned out to be a footnote to the wisdom of
the past.
No one has labored more zealously and indefatigably on
this book (as on every other literary task I have undertaken
at the Seminary) than Miss Jessica Feingold, without whose
help this book could not have appeared at this time.
The index was capably prepared by Dr. Naomi Cohen,
who is high on the list of those deserving thanks.
Parts of the research needed in connection with this study
were done by Mrs. Stanley Friedman, Mrs. Theobald Reich
and Mrs. Ada Turner, who all have my deep appreciation.
Heartfelt thanks are due Dr. Solomon Grayzel, Editor of
The Jewish Publication Society, not only for his many sug-
xlvi FOREWORD TO THE THIRD EDITION
gestions in connection with this book, but particularly for
his great patience.
Finally, I follow the ancient custom of the Rabbinic
Sages, thanking the God of my fathers for permitting me to
devote time and energy in the study of His Torah, and pray-
ing, as I enter upon old age, that He will not cast me off;
and that He will not remove His holy spirit from our gener-
ation, so that we may come to serve Him in truth.
Louis Finkelstein
Kislev IS, 5721
December 4, 1960
INTRODUCTORY NOTE TO THE THIRD EDITION
My purpose here is to describe briefly the current interpre-
tations of Pharisaism, and to indicate how the thesis devel-
oped in this book — especially in the Supplement to the
present edition — is related to them. Further, it will show
how the widespread misconception of Pharisaism as an effort
to mitigate what is often called “the burden of the Law”
(for the Pharisees anything but a burden) arose, and how
the misconception became so popular among writers on
Pharisaism.
The discussion will involve analysis of the difference be-
tween the Hasidean and the Pharisaic approach to civil law
on the one hand, and to the ritual on the other. Light on
this subject is shed from the Book of Jubilees and from
reappraisal of the passages dealing with the Pharisees in
Josephus.
Finally, the general thesis of this book requires us to con-
sider why a rustic atmosphere pervades so many of the early
tannaitic works, which are, after all, of Pharisaic origin.
Thus this Introductory Note will consist of the following
sections:
1. Modern Theories about Pharisaism and the Pharisees
2. The Rural Atmosphere of Some Talmudic Documents
3. The Nature and Authority of the Hasidean Judiciary
4. The Hasidean Civil Law
5. The Hasidean Criminal Law
6. The Unwritten Hasidean Ritual Law
xlvii
xlviii INTRODUCTORY NOTE TO THIRD EDITION
7. Light on Pharisaism and Sadducism from the Book of
Jubilees
8. The Description of the Pharisees by Josephus
1. Modern Theories about Pharisaism and the Pharisees
To achieve scientific objectivity regarding an historical
movement, one must paradoxically be sympathetic to it. To
understand and explain people and human movements they
must be seen from within as well as from without. Psycho-
logical identification is indispensable to intellectual apprecia-
tion. To understand the Pharisees, one must at least for a time,
and in spirit, become their disciple, as well as an observer.
Almost all modern writers about the Pharisees have been
hostile to them and their ideas, or disciples of hostile
writers. This curious fate has obscured the meaning of
Pharisaism and has led to curious misinterpretations of the
Pharisees and their ideas. Even great scholars, such as
Julius Wellhausen, Eduard Meyer, and Abraham Geiger, or
E. Schuerer and W. Bousset, have been misled.
To say this is not to minimize the contributions these
writers have made to the understanding of Jewish history,
both in the biblical and post-biblical periods. Wellhausen
was a great Bible critic, stimulating even when in error. In
his day Meyer was a foremost historian of antiquity. Geiger
added greatly to the elucidation of Scripture and Talmud.
The wide erudition of Schuerer and Bousset make their works
(especially in the later editions) vital for the modern student.
But none of these scholars could for a moment really
imagine himself a Pharisee or desire to share their ideas.
The Pharisaic view that theology, ethics, and ritual are
all ways to articulate ideas about God and the world
INTRODUCTORY NOTE TO THIRD EDITION
xlix
remained alien. Wellhausen could not see that the Prophets,
despite their preoccupation with moral problems, were in the
tradition of Leviticus and Deuteronomy. His dichotomy
between the Law and the Prophets inevitably led also to
dichotomy between the Pharisees and the Prophets. He
could not understand the claim of these later Sages that
their views derived from Moses and had been transmitted
to them by the Prophets.
Neither Wellhausen, Meyer, Schuerer, nor Bousset could
agree that truths are often more effectively articulated in
conduct than in words. A theological system whose main
vehicle of expression was ritual and moral behavior remained
obscure. Hence, life under the Law was despised as “legal-
ism,” an invisible prison in which the Pharisee spent his life
and which he sought to impose on others. How the Pharisee
could identify his life with true freedom, how he found
stimulus for creativity and spontaneity, how he came to
regard the Law as a home rather than a dungeon, eluded
these critics.
Disparagement of the talmudist and the Pharisee, extend-
ing from people to ideas, was encouraged not only by early
Christian writings, but also by predilection for the Jewish
apocalyptic literature where these writers were at home.
Even when preserved in strange languages, such as Ethiopic,
apocalyptic literature was intelligible at least in translation,
whereas the intricacies of talmudic law were mysterious.
The apocalyptists might be dreamers, whose reconstruction
of the past was as absurd as their conception of the future.
Still, they wrote a kind of history, no matter how primitive,
uninstructed, partisan, and undisciplined. To that extent
they could be considered fellow craftsmen, no matter how
unsophisticated.
1
INTRODUCTORY NOTE TO THIRD EDITION
Thus for a number of critics the apocalyptists became the
true “Pharisees,” the men who developed the theory of
another world where the injustice of the present would be
righted. They seemed to have inherited the Prophetic tra-
dition, for did not Prophecy include at least one apocalypse.?
And did not the Prophets — like the apocalyptists — devote
time and energy to description of the ultimate bliss awaiting
mankind? The emphasis on certain ceremonials in the Book
of Jubilees gave pause to some of these critics, but they could
dismiss that work as a curiosity in the total literature.
Some students went so far as to discern an intimate rela-
tionship between the Apocalypse and early Christianity, and
therefore could understand both how Christianity arose in
ancient Israel, and why many of its protagonists opposed
official Pharisaism as meticulous nonsense.
Living before the discovery of the Qumram literature,
these students could not know the relation of the apocalyptic
writings to the halakah of that sect. Otherwise they would
have seen that the failure of many apocalyptists to stress the
halakah was due neither to ignorance nor disparagement.
The apocalyptists simply provided the basic homiletical and
theological admonitions needed for the observances they
required of their followers. Heeding this phenomenon,
Wellhausen and others might have inferred that silence of
the Prophetic books regarding the Pentateuchal codes,
rituals, and moral norms involved no ignorance or indiffer-
ence. The Prophets devoted themselves largely to denuncia-
tion of idolatry and of social injustice because stress on ritual
would have detracted from their urgent, immediate task of
winning the people to monotheism and ethics.
On the other hand, Geiger was led into his misinterpreta-
tion of Pharisaism not by hatred, but by specious love and
INTRODUCTORY NOTE TO THIRD EDITION
li
admiration. He respected and loved the Pharisees and some
of the talmudists — such as Hillel and R. Akiba — but
re-created them in his own image. In an age which was
increasingly hedonistic, Geiger — obsessed by the necessity
of simplifying traditional Jewish practice to accord with
what he considered the needs of the modern world or at least
modern Germany — sought, in the past, support for his
views of the present. Probably unconscious of his own
motivation, he aspired to play a role in Judaism comparable
to that of Martin Luther in Christianity, and divided the
ancient teachers of Judaism into two opposing groups. There
were his exemplars, who continually sought to lessen the
‘‘burden of the Law.’’ These were his heroes, the Pharisees,
Hillel, and R. Akiba. Opposed were those who anticipated
his opponents, the fanatically rigid Sadducees, the Sham-
maites, and R. Ishmael. The first group represented the
“New Halakahy' as it emerged from the progressive, evolu-
tionary schools; the second, the “Old HalakaK' as trans-
mitted from primitive days.
By implication, Geiger refuted the indictment of the
Pharisees and the Talmud prevalent in German scholarship
of his time. The hypocritical and fanatical Jews of early
Christian writings could be identified with the supporters
of the Old Halakahy the Sadducees and the Shammaites.
The main builders of the Talmud were advocates of the
New Halakahy free from the criticisms of the early Christian
writings or of contemporary scholarship. Thus Geiger main-
tained that the doctrine of “an eye for an eye” was taken
literally by both Sadducees and Shammaites. It was part
of the Old Halakah. The New Halakah interpreted the words
to involve only monetary compensation. In this way Geiger
became an apologete for Pharisaism and the Talmud, as well
as a religious reformer.
lii INTRODUCTORY NOTE TO THIRD EDITION
Defending his approach vigorously, with great learning,
and through the use of texts not studied in the usual rabbinic
schools of his day, Geiger came to dominate Jewish historiog-
raphy not only in Germany, but throughout the West.
Essentially, his underlying premise was not dissimilar to
that of Wellhausen, Meyer, Schuerer, and Bousset. Like
them, he considered life under the Law a burden. He dis-
agreed with them only in holding that the Pharisees lightened
this burden, whereas they appeared arch-fanatics to the
other critics.
Geiger’s approach to the Pharisees and their schools was
followed in its fundamentals and elaborated by H. Graetz
and I. H. Weiss, who made it basic to their histories of the
Pharisaic and talmudic periods.
Because of the popularity of these histories, perhaps also
through the teachers’ efforts to carry further into practice
Geiger’s views on contemporary Judaism, and finally for a
special reason to be discussed below, Geiger’s historiography
won widespread currency in Western rabbinic thought, being
taken for granted in ever-widening circles.
Devastating criticism of his analyses by H. Pineles {Darkah
shel Torah, Vienna, 1861), by Isaac Halevy in Dorot ha-
Rischonim, and the late Professor Louis Ginzberg in his notes
to the third edition of Geiger’s Kebuzat Ma'amarim, did not
reverse this trend in Jewish historiography. Pineles was
known only to a limited group. Halevy’s unsystematic and
polemical work played but a minor role in Jewish studies.
Professor Ginzberg’s significant writings on the halakah were
obscured by his magnificent contributions to other aspects
of Jewish literature.
Both R. Travers Herford and G. F. Moore realized the
untenability of theories on the Pharisees developed by Well-
hausen, Meyer, Schuerer, and Bousset. Herford and Moore
INTRODUCTORY NOTE TO THIRD EDITION
liii
knew men who lived under the Law, and understood that for
these modern disciples of the ancient Pharisees the Law was
no burden but a delight. For many twentieth century Jews
the thousands of talmudic norms dealing with the Sabbath
and festivals were liberating (as are the rules of grammar
and syntax for a writer), enabling them to articulate joy
in service of their Master. Rabbinic food laws might on
occasion be inconvenient, but clearly this so-called “legalism”
elevated the animal process of nourishment to an act of
worship. To Herford and Moore, preservation of ancient
Hebrew prayers, the rituals of the tephilin, zizit, and many
others revealed deep religious meaning.
Perhaps both Herford and Moore understood the joy of
Pharisaism because of their acquaintance with the Puritans.
The Pharisees might well appear to such writers of England
and New England simply as ancient Puritans with a special
slant on life.
Projecting their observations on the history, Herford and
Moore startled readers familiar with the conclusions of
Wellhausen, Meyer, Schuerer, and Bousset. To Herford and
to Moore, who had deeper insight and wider scholarship, the
Pharisees were extremely religious men who followed a differ-
ent tradition. Herford and Moore could discount attacks
on the Pharisees in early Christianity as a conflict among
fellow-worshippers, who sought the same goals and were
often in essential agreement.
However, neither Herford nor Moore could undertake to
reappraise Geiger’s argument. Neither had entered the
portals of talmudic halakah; they could not evaluate Geiger’s
frequently complicated arguments. Therefore, following
Graetz and other Jewish writers, both Herford and Moore
(like the vast majority of Jewish writers on Pharisaism)
liv INTRODUCTORY NOTE TO THIRD EDITION
accepted the description of the Pharisees as innovators, who
sought to “adjust’' the Mosaic law to what they considered
the needs of their time.
Writing mainly for Christian readers, Herford and Moore
were especially concerned with the verbal theology of the
Pharisees, tangential to the main body of the faith. Their
books, particularly those by Moore, have enduring impor-
tance. For the first time in the present century, outside
witnesses observe Pharisaic concepts with sympathy.
Herford, Moore, and Geiger had disciples not only in
England and America, but also among later German special-
ists. Edited by Hugo Gressmann, Bousset’s third edition
departed markedly from the tone of the earlier ones. And
Gressmann was but one of many later German Christian
scholars to learn from both Puritan-minded English and
Americans and from Geiger and his followers.
In this fashion the concept of the Pharisees developed by
Geiger prevailed among virtually all writers in the field. His
doctrine of the Old Halakah and the New Halakah was con-
genial to a generation which searched everywhere for
examples of evolution, and was delighted to see Jewish law
as evolving from Sadducean fanaticism to Pharisaic stress
on the spirit in opposition to the letter of the Law.
A special circumstance (mentioned above) helped toward
their conclusions Geiger and his rabbinically-trained follow-
ers, namely, the curriculum of the rabbinical schools. There,
even today, students begin study of the Talmud with the
tractates on civil law — Baba Kamma, Baba Mezi'a, and
Baba Batra. Next come those discussing marriage law. We
shall presently see that talmudic civil law markedly deviated
from that of Scripture, and the deviations also affected dis-
cussion of the marriage law.
INTRODUCTORY NOTE TO THIRD EDITION
Iv
No wonder Geiger and his school concluded that the
Pharisees used exegesis to depart from the word of Scripture.
Efforts of the Talmud (notably that of Babylonia) to find
Scriptural support for Pharisaic deviation, at times through
forced exegesis, persuaded Geiger and his followers that the
ancient Sages did not hesitate to impose their views on the
Bible itself.
Geiger’s judgment was fortified by a further observation.
In many controversies about ritual, particularly regarding
the law of impurity, the Shammaitic norms were more
rigorous than the Hillelite. This was natural, because the
Shammaites were priests, extremely conscious of the need
for ritual purity. Removed from the market place, they
were able to observe severities in that regard which were
almost impossible for Hillelite traders. Where the Torah
is ambiguous or silent, the Shammaites tended toward rigor
in the Law. To Geiger it appeared that the original Pharisaic
norm had been that of the Shammaites, and that the
Hillelites had mitigated its harshness — trying to preserve
its spirit, but departing from its letter.
From this conclusion Geiger and his school easily inferred
that among the Hillelites R. Akiba led the innovators and
R. Ishmael the traditionalists. Because R. Akiba’s method
of Scriptural interpretation was original, because Ben Zoma
had compared him to a calf which had never known the yoke
{Abot of R. Nathan, I, ch. 23, 38b, where Ben Zoma certainly
referred to R. Akiba without specific mention), because
R. Akiba was daringly independent in some ritual decisions
(cf. e.g. Sifra Mezora', end). Because his formulation of the
Law was often contrasted in talmudic writings with that of
“the ancient elders” (cf. Sifra Hobah, perek 12.1, et al.), it
seemed to Geiger and his group that the Talmud itself con-
Ivi INTRODUCTORY NOTE TO THIRD EDITION
sidered R. Akiba an innovator in jurisprudence, no less than
in educational method and exegetical theory.
Geiger found additional confirmation for his theory in the
Talmud’s references to the Ordinances of Hillel, especially
the prosbul which practically abolished the cancellation of
debts during the Sabbatical years ordained in Deuteronomy
15.2. He curiously overlooked the fact that the takkanot of
Hill el dealt exclusively with questions of property. Through
the prosbul a creditor was permitted to collect a debt after
the Sabbatical year (Mishna Shebi'it 10.3). Through another
ordinance of Hillel (Mishna ‘Arakin 9.4) the seller of a house
in a walled city who wished to redeem his property in
accordance with the provisions of Leviticus 25.29 ff. could
do so, even in the absence of the purchaser.
In both takkanot Hillel emerged as statesman-scholar, but
neither work suggested disregard for the ritual law of the
Pentateuch.
However, we will presently show (as remarked in the
Talmud by Raba, B. Gittin 36b), the Hasideans and their
disciples carefully distinguished their approach to the laws
of property from that to the ritual. The early Hasidean
judges were essentially arbitrators to whom both litigants
submitted their respective claims, and by whose decisions
they agreed to abide. When arbitrators, the Hasidean judges
were not bound by the letter of Pentateuchal law, where in
specific cases it seemed to work hardship. When under the
Maccabees the Hasidean judges were frequently members of
a legally constituted state court, they still did not abandon
their ancient right to compel a litigant to go beyond the
requirements of the Law where justice demanded, yielding
property rights with which he seemed endowed by the letter
of the Torah.
INTRODUCTORY NOTE TO THIRD EDITION
Ivii
The individual possessed his property through the grace
of the Torah and the community. The Torah could demand,
through its interpreters, that he take no literal advantage
to enforce his rights. The community, through its properly
constituted courts, could end his property rights.
At a very late period, the Babylonian Talmud reported a
judge who insisted that the litigant go beyond the require-
ments of the Law. Some carriers had, in the course of their
work, negligently broken the wine jugs of Rabbah bar
Hanan. Angered and wanting compensation for his loss, he
seized their clothes. When the case came before Rab, he
said to Rabbah bar Hanan, “Give them their garments.”
Rabbah bar Hanan asked Rab, “Is this the law?” To which
Rab answered, “Indeed, it is; for it is written, ‘That thou
mayest walk in the way of good men’ ” (Prov. 2.20). When
they had their garments the laborers said, “We are poor;
we have worked all day; we are hungry; and we have
nothing” (with which to get food). Rab said to Rabbah
bar Hanan, “Pay them their wages.” To this the amazed
Rabbah bar Hanan responded, “Is this the law?” Rab
replied, “Yes; for it is also written [in the same verse] ‘And
keep the paths of the righteous’ ” (B. Baba Mezi'a 83a).
Ignoring the explanation of Raba in B. Gittin 36b, and
implied in Yerushalmi Shekalim 1.2, Weiss built his whole
system of rabbinic historiography on the theory that the
wise, far-seeing, enlightened scholars of rabbinic literature
were lenient interpreters of ritual law, given to “adjustment”
of law to new conditions, and opposed, Weiss believed, by a
group who subordinated necessities of life to the text of
Scripture.
Later scholars, including Leo Baeck, J. Z. Lauterbach,
and J. N. Simhoni, also ignored the assertion of Josephus
Iviii INTRODUCTORY NOTE TO THIRD EDITION
that the Pharisees were generally considered men of superior
piety and precision in interpretation of the Law {War, I, 5.2;
cf. further ibid. II, 8.14). Moreover, arbitrarily these critics
assumed both that the claim of the Pharisees to have received
traditions from their ancestors, requiring certain observances
beyond the letter of the Law (Josephus, Antiquities, XIII,
10.6), was (as the Sadducees had maintained) a fiction; and
that this Oral Law was merely a collection of decisions by
the Pharisees themselves. Yet (we show below) Josephus
simply echoed the statement of the Mishna that many
detailed Pharisaic norms — some regarding the Sabbath,
for instance — were known only through tradition and
were “mountains hanging on a hair” (Mishna Hagigah 1.8).
Nowhere did Josephus suggest that the Pharisaic interpreta-
tions in any way compromised the Written Law. On the
contrary, he clearly implied that these rules involved amplifi-
cation and particularization of Scriptural Law, opposed by
the Sadducees who inclined toward a lesser degree of piety
than the Pharisees (Josephus, loc. cit.).
The historian cannot reject out of hand the Pharisaic claim
that their norms were received from their ancestors. In fact
this text, and particularly its Supplement, will show that
this claim seems well founded (see e.g., further below, pp. 700
ff.; 718 ff.; 742 IF.).
Opposing Geiger’s interpretation of the Talmud, Professor
Ginzberg suggested in an historic lecture that the contro-
versies between the Shammaite and Hillelite wings of
Pharisaism originated neither in an attempt of the Hillelites
to “reform” the Law, nor in liberal exegesis of the Penta-
teuch, nor in evolutionary development. He held that both
traditions were of very ancient origin, and arose from
inevitable diflf^erences in approach to the Law (especially the
INTRODUCTORY NOTE TO THIRD EDITION
lix
ritual) between the aristocracy who were Shammaite and
the masses who were Hillelite in outlook. First enunciated
at an early meeting of the Rabbinical Assembly, this doctrine
was developed fully in his famous address on “The Role of
the Halakah in Jewish History.” In this exposition Professor
Ginzberg extended to the intra-Pharisaic conflict of the
Schools the distinction drawn by Josephus between the
Sadducees and the Pharisees as groups (see below pp. 80 ff.),
clearly accepting as basic Josephus’ differentiation of the
sects, and regarding the issues between them as flowing from
difference in economic status.
A similar theory on the relation of the Pharisees to the
Sadducees was developed by Max Weber in his significant
analysis of Pharisaism (see bibliography at the end of this
book). But Weber dealt mainly with the sociological and
psychological aspects of the struggle within Judaism, and
did not try to analyze the specific theological and religious
controversies between Sadducee and Pharisee.
However, study of this book and its Supplement will
indicate that most of the recorded controversies between the
Sadducees and the Pharisees cannot be directly related in
any way to differences in wealth. There was no reason, for
example, why the rich should oppose water-libations and the
poor favor them; or why aristocrats should wish the High
Priest to offer incense on the Day of Atonement in one
fashion and the plebeians should prefer another. Whatever
the merit of Weber’s interpretation of Pharisaism (and he
made a valuable contribution), he failed to explain its juristic
views as recorded in the Talmud and Josephus.
The problem of the controversies was approached in
another way (not altogether distinct from Weber’s) by
S. Dubnow (see bibliography). He recognized that an
lx INTRODUCTORY NOTE TO THIRD EDITION
essential diflFerence between the Pharisees and the Sadducees
of the Hasmonean age was socio-philosophical. The history
of Judea from the Maccabean revolt until the destruction of
the Second Temple suggested to Dubnow that the Pharisees
were animated (as indicated in this book, especially pp. 281
ff.) by the conviction that the Jewish people — and in par-
ticular the state of Judea — was not an end in itself but an
instrument to advance certain cultural, ethical, and spiritual
ideas. (Such an abstract statement would probably have
been meaningless for the ancient pietists, but describes as
best we can in words what they expressed in specific de-
cisions and behavior.) In opposition during the Hasmonean
age were the Sadducees, for whom preservation and develop-
ment of the Judean state was an end in itself, a goal similar
to that of other peoples.
Dubnow vainly tried to reconcile this insight with the
thesis derived from Geiger, namely, that the Sadducees were
literalists in legal exegesis, while the Pharisees were liberals.
Yet men for whom the state was an end in itself would
scarcely hesitate to adapt the Law to community require-
ments, and men for whom spiritual values were life-goals
would incline to disregard material needs. This contradiction
in Dubnow’s theory was revealed by Ismar Elbogen {Jewish
Studies in Memory of Israel Abrahams, pp. 145 If.).
So pervasive has been the influence of Geiger on modern
Jewish historiography that, although I consciously rejected
his conclusions, much of my early writing and thinking reflect
memories of them. Maturer thought brought me grave doubt
that the saintly Hillel and R. Akiba, convinced of the Divine
revelation of the Torah, could possibly have been motivated
in their judgments, even unconsciously, by hedonistic needs,
or would dare to interpret Scripture “to adjust the Law to
INTRODUCTORY NOTE TO THIRD EDITION
Ixi
life.” They might consider comfort or convenience, even in
the interpretation of the ritual law, where the Torah was
really ambiguous or silent. But how could these God-fearing
men, their predecessors, and their followers possibly be
accused of “changing” the ritual Law, through pseudo-
interpretation and pseudo-exegesis when its meaning was
clear and beyond doubt?
On a visit to the Holy Land in 1925 I first realized the
actual basis for the intra-Pharisaic controversies recorded in
the Talmud, and the controversies between the Pharisees
and the Sadducees. Difference in wealth was secondary.
Certainly neither the Hillelites nor the Pharisees as a group
wished to be innovators. But in 1925 the great difference
between the climate of Jerusalem and the seashore 2,400 feet
below became vivid to me as never before. I then understood
that environment which in my native America changed only
with hundreds or thousands of miles, in tiny Judea was
sharply differentiated within an hour’s journey.
At once many controversies in the Talmud, seemingly
derived from arbitrary exegesis, appeared reasonable and
logical. They actually derived from difference of environ-
ment. Remembering that Jerusalem, the largest city of
Judea, was in the highlands, we might expect some contro-
versies to have derived also from differences between town
and country. Because the priests were large landowners in
the fertile oasis of Jericho and in Galilee, they might well
retain traditions of the provinces, while Levites and Jerusa-
lem’s traders adhered to the traditions of the city.
Projecting on earlier times these differences among the
talmudic authorities, I concluded that many controversies
between Sadducee and Pharisee also reflected differences of
habitat. In the recorded controversies the Sadducean posi-
Ixii INTRODUCTORY NOTE TO THIRD EDITION
tion suggested prejudice arising from rural conditions, life
in the plains, and priestly bias. The Pharisees of the same
era were a product of the Jerusalem market place. At first
I glimpsed only vaguely that in ritual law the Pharisees
simply adhered to the letter of Scripture, while the rural,
priestly, aristocratic Sadducees inherited a series of devia-
tionist interpretations opposed by the Hasideans and their
predecessors — the Prophets.
The present Supplement oflfers arguments to buttress this
view, and with them the conclusion that at least some of the
controversies between Sadducee and Pharisee originated
before the First Exile when Jerusalem had already become a
“gate of peoples,” while other disagreements go back to
earlier days when Judea was divided, first between the
economy of the highland shepherd and the lowland rustic,
and then between enlarged Jerusalem and the rest of the
country. In a subsequent study I shall try to show (as my
Akiba does in part) how many rabbinic controversies regard-
ing ambiguous verses or problems not discussed in the Bible
reflect this difference of environment.
In earlier editions of this book some passages imply that
the issues between the Pharisees and the Sadducees also
concerned only ambiguous biblical texts or situations where
Scripture was silent. The Supplement (pp. 637 ff.) shows
that this is correct only in part. Most of the debates about
ritual arose from the Pharisaic loyalty to the text of Scripture
and its neglect by the Proto-Sadducees, i.e., the High Priests
of the Persian and Hellenistic periods or of the First Common-
wealth. A few recorded controversies deal with the civil law,
and in these instances also the Pharisees adopted the simple
meaning of the biblical text (see pp. 633 ff.).
In most controversies concerning ritual, Sadducean devia-
INTRODUCTORY NOTE TO THIRD EDITION
Ixiii
tion from the plain meaning of Scripture was due to priestly
and rural predisposition or interest. In controversies between
Sadducism and Pharisaism on problems concerning which
Scripture was either silent or ambiguous, the Pharisees can
be shown to have followed judgments and views natural to
urban lay scholars. In some instances, silence or ambiguity
in the Scriptural text led to further controversy within
Pharisaism itself.
I therefore maintain that Sadducism was the product of
the Temple hierarchy and the provincial aristocracy, whereas
Pharisaism arose from conditions governing the market place
in Jerusalem. The influence of these urban scholars was most
distinctly felt in later times among the peasantry of the Judean
highlands, while that of the priestly aristocracy dominated
religious life in the Judean lowland and in distant Galilee.
2, The Rural Atmosphere of Some Talmudic Documents
However, it must be remembered that for a large part of
its history, Jerusalem was little more than a village, which
became a ‘'gate of peoples'' after the destruction of the
Northern Kingdom of the Ten Tribes under the later kings
of Judah. Laid waste under Nebuchadnezzar during the
deportation to Babylonia, Jerusalem resumed life as a village
during the Persian and Hellenistic periods, becoming once
more a thriving center of commerce and industry under the
Hasmoneans, or perhaps slightly before them.
Because Jerusalem was long a village, part of the Talmud
and much of the Mishna are marked by language, examples,
analogies, and general atmosphere normally associated with
the countryside. This was inevitable and does not militate
against our environmental thesis.
Not only was a whole Order of the Mishna dedicated to
Ixiv INTRODUCTORY NOTE TO THIRD EDITION
agricultural laws, but the laws of damages usually illustrated
general principles through agricultural examples such as an
ox goring a cow or grazing in a neighbor’s field. The Mishna,
when freeing an owner from damages committed by his slave,
asserted that without such a rule “a slave might set fire to a
neighbor's harvest each day,” bringing ruin upon his owner
(Mishna Yadayim 4.7). The principle of freeing an arsonist
from responsibility for hidden valuables destroyed in a fire
he set, was illustrated by the example of vessels concealed
in a heap of grain (Mishna Baba Kamma 6.5). Responsi-
bility of bailees was discussed almost wholly in rural
terms (Mishna Baba Mezi‘a 3; 6.4 £F.; 8.1 ff.). Laws for the
festival week began with permission to water a field de-
pendent on irrigation (Mishna Mo‘ed Katan 1.1). Labors
prohibited on the Sabbath (Mishna Shabbat 7.2) were
enumerated in fashion normal for a rustic. The treatise
Shabbat opened with enumeration of four types of property,
in early sources each defined in rural terms. According to
interpretation of the Yerushalmi (ad loc.) and 7'osefta
(cf. Professor Saul Lieberman’s Tosefta Ki-Fshutah, ad loc.)
they were the private estate, the public highway, unfenced
private farmland, and public paths leading to highways.
Tosefta described the private estate as land elevated above
the surrounding country by at least ten handbreadths or
falling below it by at least ten handbreadths. The public
highway was the great road leading from locality to locality.
The private unfenced farmland and the public paths leading
to a highway were similarly characteristic of the rural areas.
While the Talmud also applied all these norms to life in the
city, it is highly instructive that the four types of property
were defined in terms congenial to the country.
All this is natural. Even during the last generations of the
INTRODUCTORY NOTE TO THIRD EDITION IxV
Second Commonwealth Judea and Galilee remained rural
communities, and the dominant industry of the country was
agriculture. Litigation before the courts, whether of Jerusa-
lem’s market place or the Temple, was frequently typical of
rustic life. Ritual observances, even among the Hasideans,
were formulated in terms deriving from provincial surround-
ings, because the discussions arose in the pre-Maccabean
period when Jerusalem itself was a village, or because they
were based on biblical verses which dealt primarily with an
agricultural people.
Much of the Mishna was apparently formulated during
the Persian and Hellenistic ages, but the controversies be-
tween Sadducism and Pharisaism had developed far earlier,
in the later generations of the First Commonwealth, or even
before.
What is remarkable about the Mishna and kindred works
is not their rural atmosphere, but the extent to which they
reflected urban life. Unlike the public highway discussed at
the beginning of Mishna Shabbat, which was the road leading
from village to village, that discussed in Mishna Baba
Kamma (3.1 ff.) was a city street.
Much of the treatise ‘Erubin dealt with situations typical
of crowded Jerusalem. The thief who was also an artisan
(discussed in Baba Kamma 9.1 ff.) was presumably a towns-
man. Similarly, the artisan liable for damage to goods
entrusted him (ibid. 3, 4) may be assumed a city dweller.
Mishna Baba Mezi'a (3.4 fi".) spoke of money entrusted to
a bailee, but in a rustic world bailments of produce would
be a more natural example. Mishna Baba Mezi'a (ch. 4),
dealing with the laws of sale and acquisition of property,
opened with consideration of exchanges of silver for gold
and only afterward dealt with the sale of produce, logically
Ixvi INTRODUCTORY NOTE TO THIRD EDITION
primary as shown from the talmudic discussion. Mishna
Baba Mezi‘a (4.6), discussing the right of a purchaser to
claim fraud, considered first the law applying in the city,
then that applying in villages. The whole of chapter 5 of
that treatise dealt primarily with situations likely to arise
in a sizable city rather than in a village. The law on the
rights of the trained urban artisan (ibid. ch. 6) preceded
that on the farm laborer (ch. 7). The law of neighbors
opened in Mishna Baba Mezi'a, chapter 10, and Baba Batra
1.1, with the example of two persons occupying the same
house or sharing a court which was likely in a city, then went
on to discussion of peasant neighbors (Mishna Baba Batra
1.2 ff., and ch. 2). The laws of sale began with the selling
of a house (ibid. ch. 4) or a court (typical of the crowded
city), and only then proceeded to the sale of a field (ibid.
4.8). A chapter dealing with the sale of a boat (ch. 5) pre-
ceded that dealing with sale of seed which failed to produce
grain (ibid. 5.1) or of large farms (ibid. 7.1. ff.).
Each of these examples may be explained by the assump-
tion that the Pharisaic Sages dealt with city problems no
less than with rural ones, but the precedence given the
former is suggestive.
Stress on urban situations might be held to occur more
frequently in texts from Hasmonean and post-Hasmonean
times, when Jerusalem once more became a business center,
but texts with predominant emphasis on rusticity were
essentially pre-Hasmonean.
3. The Nature and Authority of the Hasidean Judiciary
The difference between the Hasideans’ approach to the
civil law, which they felt free to alter, and to the ritual law,
to which they adhered to the letter no less than to the spirit
of Scrioture, is illuminated by a famous baraita commenting
INTRODUCTORY NOTE TO THIRD EDITION
Ixvii
on Deuteronomy 17.8 IF. This baraita has been transmitted
in three different forms. As I have shown {Hebrew Union
College Annual^ XXXII^ 1961, Morgenstern Jubilee Volume,
Hebrew section, pp. 1 ff.), the pre-Maccabean text of this
baraita can readily be reconstructed from that preserved in
the Talmud of Jerusalem and in general follows the spirit
of the biblical text.
According to this Deuteronomic passage the Temple court
was supreme. When in doubt the local judge turned to it
for guidance. But this guidance was limited to the civil and
criminal law. No mention was made of ritual. The local
judge, confused regarding a case involving matters "'between
blood and blood’’ (homicide), "between judgment and judg-
ment” (property), or "between stroke and stroke” (physical
injury), was told to resort for instruction to the court at the
Temple. The cases mentioned were precisely of the type
which Jethro had proposed that inferior judges bring before
Moses for adjudication (Ex. 18.22), and which Moses com-
manded them to bring before him (Deut. 1.18 fF.). No
mention of ceremonial was made in any of these Pentateuchal
passages. Ritual problems were left to the discretion of local
leaders, to the individual if they were home or personal
ceremonies, or to the Temple authorities if they were Temple
ceremonies.
The first effort to expand the authority of the Temple
court, we are told, was made by King Jehoshaphat (II Chron.
19.8 fF.). According to the Chronicler, that king established
a court in Jerusalem "for the judgment of the Lord and for
controversies.” Characteristically, this court consisted of
Levites, priests, and heads of families. "And whensoever,”
said the king to these judges, "‘any controversy shall come
to you from your brethren that dwell in their cities, between
Ixviii INTRODUCTORY NOTE TO THIRD EDITION
blood and blood, between law and commandment, statutes
and ordinances, ye shall warn them, they be not guilty
towards the Lord, and so wrath come upon you and upon
your brethren.”
According to King Jehoshaphat then (following the record
in Chronicles), the court in Jerusalem (not necessarily in
the Temple itself) was to guide the people in all matters of
ceremonial — warning and instructing them, so they might
not transgress the Law in any respect. King Jehoshaphat
continued, “And behold Amariah the chief priest is over
you in all matters of the Lord” (presumably Pentateuchal
law) ; “Zebadiah the son of Ishmael, the ruler of the house of
Judah” (a layman, “in all the king’s matters” (presumably in
issues of civil and criminal law, not specifically discussed
in the Pentateuch). Any issue involving capital punishment
(perhaps only murder) was to be brought before this court.
Any other issues involving the Law, commandments,
statutes, and ordinances (literally, litigations) were also to
be brought before the court, if the local judge wanted to
escape responsibility which might bring guilt upon him
and his people. The Supreme Court was to give him an
authoritative decision. If the problems were covered in the
Pentateuch, the Chief Priest presided; otherwise the prince
of the house of Judah presided.
Described in the Book of Chronicles, the system clearly
had the purpose which many religious leaders and thinkers
of the Second Commonwealth (and perhaps also the First)
sought to achieve — to bridge the chasm separating Proto-
Sadducism from Proto-Pharisaism, which threatened to
divide the Jewish people in two. The Chronicler held that
the Supreme Court would be entitled to impose uniform
practice on the country not only in civil and criminal law
INTRODUCTORY NOTE TO THIRD EDITION
Ixix
but also in ritual, provided Levites were included in its
membership, as well as priests and chiefs of clans. Lacking
the Levites, it was not a Supreme Court in the sense the
Book of Deuteronomy had intended; and therefore had no
appellate jurisdiction. Including Levites (who would be
inclined toward the Hasidean doctrine) the court might
transform the divisive controversies into judicial discussion
and restore unity to the people. King Jehoshaphat (or the
Chronicler) interpreted the words of Deuteronomy 17.9;
"And thou shalt come unto the priests, the Levites, and unto
the judge that shall be in those days,” to mean priests and
Levites. A court which lacked either priests or Levites could
not claim the prerogatives described in Deuteronomy. Only
a court including both priests and Levites could act as the
Supreme Court of the land.
The implications of the passage in Chronicles are clear.
The contemporary Temple Court claimed jurisdiction not
only in the areas clearly defined in Deuteronomy, but in the
religious life of the nation as a whole. The decisive words of
Deuteronomy, the Chronicler doubtless held, were “matters
of controversy” (Deut. 17.8). Any matter of controversy
could and should be brought before the court for settlement.
The examples mentioned in Deuteronomy were not exclusive,
for the words of Deuteronomy were to be interpreted in the
light of Jethro’s remark to Moses (Ex. 18.20): “And thou
shalt teach them the statutes and the laws, and shalt show
them the way wherein they must walk, and the work that
they must do.” These words were taken to describe the
ceremonials and rituals of Judaism, no less than its civil and
criminal law.
Later history shows that the Hasideans were willing to
accept the doctrine set forth in Chronicles and ascribed to
Ixx INTRODUCTORY NOTE TO THIRD EDITION
King Jehoshaphat. Later versions of the baraita formulated
under the Maccabean regime, greatly expanded the authority
of the Temple Court; for under the early Maccabees, “the
Sages of Israel,” i.e., the Pharisaic scholars, sat with the
priests and the heads of the clans in the Supreme Court.
But even in Maccabean times the Hasideans denied that the
Temple Court had final jurisdiction in the interpretation of
the ritual as a whole.
The Hasideans certainly denied that the Central Court
could decide controversies regarding ritual during the Persian
and Hellenistic periods, when it consisted exclusively of
priests and the heads of the clans.
Had the Hasideans not challenged the claim of the Temple
Court, their movement would have come to an early end;
for the decisions of the Court during the Persian and
Hellenistic periods always followed, we may be sure, the
Proto-Sadducean views. Persistence of the controversies
between the Sadducees and the Pharisees demonstrated
Hasidean unwillingness to submit ritual and other contro-
versial questions to the Court. The effort of the Book of
Jubilees to mediate between the two groups (see below.
Section 7) would have been entirely superfluous had the
Temple Court been universally recognized as an authori-
tative interpreter of the Law.
Because the Hasideans did not recognize the Temple
Court as fulfilling the requirements set down in Deuteronomy
for the Supreme Tribunal, they felt free not only to flout its
decisions regarding religious ritual (which they presumably
considered beyond its competence in any event), but to
create an independent judicial system for the solution of
civil litigation among their own members.
Such an extra-legal judicial system among the Hasideans
INTRODUCTORY NOTE TO THIRD EDITION IxXl
was not only presumed in the maxim of the Men of the Great
Synagogue (Mishna Abot 1.2), but its establishment was
persistently ascribed in the Talmud to Ezra the Scribe
(B. Baba Kamma 82a; Ketubot 3a; Yer, Megillah 4.1, 75a).
However, during the pre-Maccabean period this judicial
system had no powers of coercion. Its courts could not
compel anyone to appear or to submit to their decisions.
Resort to them was voluntary and out of Hasidean piety.
The courts had been invented so that the Hasidean, worried
lest he commit injustice, could learn from them what was
right regarding obligations to his fellow-man, and regarding
ritual obligations. Thus these courts never had occasion to
deal with willful injury to a neighbor or with such crimes as
robbery or theft. Mistrusting the regularly constituted
courts, which were dominated by the Temple tribunal, and
doubting their learning, piety, and authority, the Hasidean
was compelled by the logic of his religious views to obey
only his own judges. If his own judges considered him
responsible for a debt or for unintentional injury to a
neighbor, he would wish to make compensation. If his own
courts did not require him to offer compensation, he would
not do so. Of course, if opposed by non-Hasideans, he might
be hailed before the legally constituted courts which he
would be forced to obey.
Litigation involving Temple property would not be
brought before these Hasidean courts. What was done in
such cases? Hasidean exegesis of Scripture gave a clear
answer. The owner of an ox which gored that of a neighbor
had to pay half of the damages for the first offense. But the
Temple could not be considered a “neighbor.” Hence, if a
man’s ox gored one belonging to the Sanctuary, no penalty
was prescribed by Scripture. If, nevertheless, the Temple
Ixxii INTRODUCTORY NOTE TO THIRD EDITION
Court imposed a penalty, it simply had to be paid. On the
other hand, if a man’s ox was hurt by an ox belonging to
the Temple, he could not collect, and simply made no effort
to do so, whatever the Temple judiciary might decide
(Mishna Baba Kamma 4.3).
But the word “neighbor” excluded the pagan. Hence, if
his ox was gored by that of a pagan, a Hasidean could ac-
cept full damages, should the legally constituted courts
impose them. Yet, if the ox of a Hasidean gored that of a
pagan and the regularly constituted courts acquitted the
Hasidean, he was under no obligation to offer compensation
(ibid.).
That the Hasidean judicial structure had for its purpose
the discovery of obligations to neighbors, rather than the
opportunity for a litigant to ensure his rights, seems evident
from the very language of Mishna Baba Kamma 1.2, recog-
nized by the Talmud as singular and archaic (B. Baba
Kamma 6b). It reads: “Whatever I am obliged to guard
[against doing injury] I must be considered as having en-
abled to do injury [if I failed in my duty]. If I made pos-
sible part of the injury [through such carelessness], I am
obliged to make compensation for all the injury.” This
rule applied only to secular property, and to that belonging
to children of the covenant. The form of the statement, in
the first person, rather than that of a judicial norm, indi-
cates that the early Hasidean teachers were articulating an
ethical precept required of their followers, whether or not
the regularly constituted tribunals enforced it.
When in doubt as to the Law, the Hasidean judge was
under no obligation to follow the provision of Deuteronomy
17.8 ff. to seek advice from the Temple Court. The Hasidean
judges were acting as referees to whom the litigants sub-
INTRODUCTORY NOTE TO THIRD EDITION Ixxiii
mitted their quarrel, and not as the duly appointed judges
described in Deuteronomy 16.18. The opposing parties had
come to the Hasidean scholars for their decision, whether or
not it accorded specifically with Pentateuchal law. Thus, if
Hasidean judges felt that strict application of Pentateuchal
law would work injustice in a particular case, they were
free to deviate from it.
Therefore the chapter in the Mishna Sanhedrin discussing
civil procedure (i.e., ch. 3) dealt almost exclusively with
courts of arbitration. Each litigant chose a judge, and
either the two judges, or the litigants themselves chose the
third.
According to R. Meir (Mishna Sanhedrin 3.1) either liti-
gant could veto his opponent’s choice. This arrangement —
doubtless preserving an ancient tradition — was indispensa-
ble; for the opponent might choose a Proto-Sadducean
arbiter whose persuasiveness might affect the neutral third
judge. Moreover, R. Meir held that either litigant could
arbitrarily refuse to admit witnesses brought by his oppo-
nent. This astonishing norm can be explained only on the
assumption that the litigant under discussion wished to
fulfill his obligations under Hasidean law. Convinced that
the opposing witnesses were false, he could ask the judges
to disregard their testimony. (Both views of R. Meir were
rejected as illogical by his colleagues; and so they were, in
a time when a formal judicial system with power to enforce
its decisions had been instituted for all the Jews.)
To explain the passage in the Mishna logically, R. Johanan
asserted that it referred only to Jewish courts in Syria. Un-
like the courts of Galilee, Judea, and Babylonia in his time,
these Syrian courts had no legal status, except as courts of
arbitration (B. Sanhedrin 23a; but cf. Yer. ibid. 3.2, 21a).
Ixxiv INTRODUCTORY NOTE TO THIRD EDITION
R, Johanan could hardly have believed that the Mishna
originally discussed only Jewish courts in Syria. Why
should the Mishna be silent about the judicial procedure of
the civil courts of the Holy Land, and devote a whole chap-
ter to the discussion of those of Syria? R. Johanan un-
doubtedly had received a firm tradition, according to which
the Mishna dealt with a voluntary judicial system, replaced
in Judea and Galilee by one clothed with authority, and
surviving in its original form only in Syria.
Appearing before such a court, not to enforce his rights
but to learn his obligations, the pious Jew in Syria of R.
Johanan’s time — like the earlier Hasidean — could reject the
witnesses about to testify against him, if he knew them
unlikely to be credible (cf. the discussion of the different
views of R. Johanan and R. Simeon b. Lakish, in both the
Babylonian and Palestinian Talmudim).
Although doubtless satisfied in his own conscience that
his courts of arbitration did not come under the rules of
Deuteronomy 17.8 fF., and had no reason to refer to the
Temple Court cases in which they needed guidance, the
Hasidean, like others of his time and like judges of all times,
had to prove for his opponents and some skeptics that his
views conformed to the Written Word, or rather how the
Written Word confirmed his judgment. Perhaps, too, he
felt the need to delimit the authority of the Temple Court
over the regularly constituted tribunals, even more narrowly
than did the express word of Deuteronomy. Just as the
Qumram Sect, opposing the High Priests who claimed
descent from Zadok, resorted to a forced interpretation of
Ezekiel 44.15, where the Zadokites were selected for par-
ticular and loving praise (see S. Schechter, Documents of
Jewish Sectaries, I, p. 4), so the early Hasideans resorted
INTRODUCTORY NOTE TO THIRD EDITION IxXV
to ingenious explanations of Deuteronomy 17.8 ff, in sup-
port of their right to create an independent judiciary even
for civil litigation.
Playing on the words ki yippale (literally, “If doubt
arise’') the Hasidean baraita asserted that the whole pas-
sage dealt exclusively with the mufla^ a legally selected
judge, and not one chosen by the opposing litigants. (For
a discussion of the meaning of mufia^ cf. Professor Ginz-
berg’s Commentary on the Y erushalmi^ II, pp. 212 ff., and my
own discussion in Louis Ginzberg Jubilee Volume^ Hebrew
Section, p. 314; it seems clear from Mishna Horayot 1.3 that
the word refers to the duly appointed head of the court: see
Sifre Deut. 152, p. 205; B. Sanhedrin 87a; Yer. ibid. 11.4,
30a.) But even such a judge in a quandary need not refer a
difficult case to the Temple Court. According to the pre-
Maccabean version of the baraita under discussion (see article
in Morgenstern volume already mentioned), he need appeal
to the Temple Court only when confused as to interpretation
of the facts before him or the logic of his legal analysis. He
need not be guided by the tradition of the Temple Court.
The Temple Court also had a role in defining areas of
jurisdiction. A local court, according to Hasidean theory,
could not decide cases involving capital punishment. If
litigation arose which was on the surface only a claim for
monetary compensation, but might possibly involve the
capital penalty, the local judge would rightly refer it to the
Temple marriage court. One such case was that of the newly
married bride whose husband claimed he had not found her
a virgin (discussed in Deut. 22.13 ff.).
By the charge the husband might be demanding only the
right to divorce his wife without repayment of her dower —
a claim to be adjudicated in civil courts. He might accuse
her of licentiousness before the erusim (literally, betrothal).
Ixxvi INTRODUCTORY NOTE TO THIRD EDITION
On the other hand, the presentation of his case might lead
to her being charged with adultery while an arusah, a crime
punishable by death. Because of this possibility, the local
court would properly refer the case to the Temple authori-
ties for adjudication. Such a case, according to the Hasidean
baraita in its earliest form (see Yer. Sanhedrin 11.4, 30a) was
meant by the phrase “between blood and blood.”
The words, “between judgment and judgment,” meant —
according to Hasidean exegesis — a decision whether any
other case before the local judge possibly involved capital
punishment.
Finally, the words, “between blow and blow” could not
be interpreted by the Hasideans as referring to physical
injury. As shown below (p. 721 fF.) they held that such
injuries were subject only to monetary payment. In later
times most talmudic authorities in Babylonia held that
while such injuries were subject only to compensation, they
could not be tried in their courts (see B. Baba Kamma 27b,
84b), but the Talmud encountered great difficulty in its
effort to explain the difference between such cases and civil
suits for the repayment of loans. Rab Nahman called pay-
ments for physical injuries “fines.” Tosafot, Baba Kamma
27b (catchword, Kenasa), explained that this remark was
not to be taken literally; for general talmudic theory held
payment for physical injury was not a fine at all, but com-
pensation. It would appear that at an early time, when the
Babylonian authorities set up their autonomous judicial
system, they limited its authority to the collection of debts,
because they agreed with the Shammaitic principle (see be-
low, pp. 721 ff.) that physical injury should be punished
with the talio, but that the defendant could redeem his limbs
through appropriate payment. This theory seems to have
INTRODUCTORY NOTE TO THIRD EDITION Ixxvii
been accepted by the Hasmoneans, and from them to have
spread to Babylonia: the reason that the Babylonian judges,
who had no authority to enforce the talio^ did not exact
payment for physical injury. There was no reconciliation
between this practice and the early Hasidean theory, pre-
served among the Hillelites and stressed by R, Akiba in
particular, that compensation for physical injury was under
no circumstances other than monetary damages. Hence
Rab Hisda — the disciple of Rab Huna, himself the disciple
of Rab, who followed the views of Rabbi Judah the Patri-
arch and R. Akiba — considered it proper to collect damages
for physical injury through Babylonian Jewish courts.
The word for ‘'blow’' inegd) was interpreted by the
Hasidean scholars to mean the plague of leprosy. A local
judge faced with a case of suspected leprosy would be wise
to refer it for judgment to the Temple Court, whose priestly
members were skilled in these problems. (The discussion of
the baraita here amplifies that in the Hebrew Union College
Annual mentioned and differs from it slightly. The article
in the Annual should be corrected accordingly.)
This exegesis enabled the Hasideans to interpret the verse
suggesting that the priests had authority in all issues of
physical struggle and in controversy (Deut. 21.5) in such a
way as to limit the authority of the priestly court. Once
more the word “stroke” {negd) was explained to mean
“leprosy,” and the word “controversy” was held to refer to
rituals specifically assigned to the priesthood, such as the
ordeal of the suspected wife (Num. 5.11 ff.), the expiation
of an unexplained murder (Deut. loc. cit.), and the ceremony
of the red heifer.
Ixxviii INTRODUCTORY NOTE TO THIRD EDITION
4. The Hasidean Civil Law
As already observed, because the Hasidean courts of pre-
Maccabean times were technically courts of arbitration to
which litigants submitted voluntarily, the civil law of the
group did not have to conform to the written text of Scrip-
ture. Seeking both peace and justice among the litigants,
the courts could deviate from the word of the Pentateuch
whenever they held that literal application of the Law
would work hardship or injustice. Hence, precedents estab-
lished by Hasidean courts often differed greatly from civil
law prescribed in the Pentateuch.
We do not know what the Sadducean civil law was or how
the pre-Maccabean Temple Courts functioned. However,
there are hints in the Book of Jubilees and the Testaments
of the Twelve Patriarchs (see below, p. 268) that one issue
between the Hasideans and the Proto-Sadducees concerned
interpretation of the word na^arah (maiden) in the Bible.
According to the Hasideans, in this instance followed by the
Book of Jubilees and the Testaments of the Twelve Patri-
archs, the term referred only to a pubescent girl, i.e., one
above the age of twelve but not yet twelve and a half (B.
Niddah 65a; cf. Mishna ibid. 5.8). The Pharisees held such
a girl to be a grown woman, only partly under the authority
of her father. After she became twelve and a half her father’s
rights over her ceased completely. Thus fines paid for rape
(Deut. 22.29) or seduction (Ex. 22.16) or slander (Deut.
21.19) of his daughter belonged to a father only until she
was twelve and a half years old. Only before that age could
he choose her husband (ibid. 22.13). If the father sold her
into concubinage (an institution probably already archaic
and considered only for theoretical exegesis of the biblical
INTRODUCTORY NOTE TO THIRD EDITION Ixxix
passages) before she was twelve, she could leave her “hus-
band” on reaching that age, whether he agreed or not (Ex.
21.7, and Mekilta, Mishpatim, ch. 3, p. 257). If she remained
with him she would not be considered a concubine or maid
servant, but his wife (Ex. 21.10 and Mekilta, Mishpatim,
ch. 3, p. 258).
The Hasideans further abolished slavery for debt, of the
debtor himself or of his children, although such slavery was
envisaged in II Kings 4.1, and was implied even in Nehemiah
5.5, as perhaps also in Exodus 21.1 ff., and Leviticus 25.29.
Under Hasidean law, a Judaite could become a slave only
by selling himself into bondage (see Mekilta on Ex. 21.1) or
by being sold by the Court in repayment for theft for which
he could not make restitution.
The biblical law which said that a Hebrew slave prefer-
ring bondage at the expiration of his six-year term (the
maximum permitted) could be kept “forever,” was inter-
preted to mean that he remained enslaved only until the
Jubilee year (see Mekilta on Ex. 21.6).
A series of norms regarding property rights was developed
by the Hasideans to supplement that of Scripture. Hasidean
law defined the duties of neighbors toward each other and
the boundaries of their land. They were forbidden to dig
near the borders lest that injure the neighbor’s property.
Various regulations were formulated governing purchase and
sale, and obligations on finding a lost article.
Hasidean courts held that a man admitting part of a
claim against him had to support his assertion by an oath;
whereas one denying a claim outright was under no such
obligation (Mishna Shebuot 6.1). Later sages encountered
much difficulty in search for biblical foundation to this
seemingly paradoxical rule (cf. B. Baba Kamma 107a,
Ixxx INTRODUCTORY NOTE TO THIRD EDITION
Sanhedrin 3b). However, it seems rooted in an early Hasi-
dean observation that outright denial of a claim was far
more difficult for many than partial admission; and that
litigants might resort to half-truths, unless required to sub-
stantiate their statements under oath. (This observation is
mentioned in the Talmud, B. Baba Mezi'a 3a.)
Certain complications in the laws on theft unprovided for
in Scripture were handled by Hasidean judges. A man who
had stolen wool and dyed it, could not restore what he had
stolen: what payment was to be made? The Bible offered
no answer; but Hasidean law did (Mishna Baba Kamma 9.1
ff).
Biblical labor laws were greatly expanded by the Hasi-
deans. It was not enough that an employer desiring to deal
justly with his employee should pay wages on time as pro-
vided in Deuteronomy 24.15. A worker was permitted to
leave his job whenever he chose. If he ruined the material
on which he was working, his liability was limited.
As already indicated, the norm limiting the meaning of the
word naarah, as used in Scripture, to girls approximately
over twelve but under twelve and a half involved complica-
tions in the marriage law. Should a father, in violation of the
Hasidean interpretation of Scripture, give his daughter in
marriage when she was older than twelve and a half, would
the marriage be valid? Hasidean courts held that a father's
rights over a daughter were those of property, and therefore
his action was void. Whether in pre-Maccabean times the
Temple Courts accepted these decisions, is unknown. Pre-
sumably, they did not. That is probably why the Hasidean
norm in this regard was the subject of specific reference in
the Pseudepigraphic literature. We already observed that
both the Book of Jubilees and the Testaments of the Twelve
INTRODUCTORY NOTE TO THIRD EDITION Ixxxi
Patriarchs seemed to agree that a girl given in marriage by
her father, after she had reached maturity, was free to
marry anyone else, for her father’s action had no validity.
Hasidean law also defined the rights of each partner as
well as the duties and rights of fellow-townsmen in relation
to each other and to the community. It fixed the rights of
the leaders of a community over communal property. It
determined the precise moment when a sale was consum-
mated, transferring the rights and obligations of the vendor
to the purchaser. It prohibited certain types of competition,
and enjoined business arrangements intended to evade the
biblical law against usury.
Hasidean law admitted circumstantial evidence in civil
litigation; and held that the testimony of one witness, in
itself not sufficient for a decision, had to be offset by an
affirmation of the opposing litigant, supported by an oath.
We have already observed that the attitude of the Temple
authorities to these Mishnaic norms cannot be fully deter-
mined. But there is some evidence, in addition to that al-
ready cited, that it was disapproving. Thus their extreme
sense of individual responsibility led the Pharisees to place
the whole blame for wrong-doing by an agent upon him,
rather than on the principal. Even a man sent to commit
arson, provided he was a normally intelligent human being,
had to bear sole responsibility for damage done by him
(Mishna Baba Kamma 6.4). The principal was guilty, ac-
cording to Hillelite law, as reported by R. Joshua, only in
the eyes of Heaven, but could not be convicted by courts of
mortal human beings (B. Baba Kamma 55b). Holding the
owner of a slave responsible for damages done by him —
even against the will of the owner (see below, pp. 285 ff.) —
it seems evident that the Sadducean tradition would require
ixxxii INTRODUCTORY NOTE TO THIRD EDITION
compensation from a principal who deliberately caused in-
jury to a neighbor. Therefore the Mishnaic norm must be
of Hasidean origin and opposed to that of the Temple judges
and priests.
One issue of civil law which apparently divided the
Proto-Sadducees and the Hasideans in an unrecorded con-
troversy concerned the law of the Jubilee year. The ques-
tion was whether the law applied during the Second Com-
monwealth, and if so, to what extent.
The rule set down in Leviticus 25.8 ff. assumes division
of the Land of Israel among the tribes, clans and families.
According to Joshua 15.1 S., this was made by lot. Sifra
Behar, beginning, holds that, in view of this original division
of the land among the whole population, the law of the
Jubilee could apply only when the whole people of Israel
dwelt in the Holy Land, and every person could identify
the ground he possessed as that given his ancestors at the
time of the allocation by Joshua. This was by no means
the case during the Second Commonwealth, so the law of
the Jubilee did not apply, at least to farmland.
However, the question could be raised whether the law
of the Jubilee dealing with houses in walled cities, and ex-
plained in Leviticus 25.29 fF., applied during the Second
Commonwealth. Under that law, houses in a walled city,
when sold, could be redeemed within a year. If not so re-
deemed, they remained the permanent possession of the
purchaser. The reason for this rule seemed to be that, un-
like the rest of the country, the houses in walled cities had
not been distributed by lot among tribes, clans and families.
Therefore, the owner of such a house could not claim that
his ancestors had been given it through the general division
at the time of Joshua. Ownership was based merely on
INTRODUCTORY NOTE TO THIRD EDITION Ixxxiii
claims deriving from ordinary commercial transactions.
The Torah gave the owner a year within which to redeem
the house, if circumstances compelled him to sell it. But if
he were unable to redeem it, the house was forfeit to the
purchaser.
The right reserved to the seller to repurchase the house at
the original price was of great importance in ancient Judaite
society. The story of Naboth (I Kings 21.1 ff.) suggested
that separation from ancestral possessions was extremely
painful. Indeed, we can see from the Book of Ruth that
pride in family ownership of land extended to that actually
owned by somewhat distant relatives. (Similar attachment
to ancestral soil and property is reflected in modern times
in the literature emanating from England and the Conti-
nent, and is possibly even stronger in other regions of the
world.) While the seller of a house in a walled city might
not be able to prove ancestral ownership up to the time of
Joshua — and even with such proof the house was not con-
sidered a family possession in the sense that farmland was
— he parted with it only under dire financial necessity and
at the first opportunity would seek to “redeem” it. If the
purchaser could demand a larger price than he had paid, the
law against usury (Lev. 25.35 ff.) could easily be circum-
vented. The lender could purchase the house, then resell it
to the original owner at a price including a substantial
profit. The Hasideans held that this had to be prevented.
Mishna ‘Arakin 9.4 assumed that this law applied during
the Second Commonwealth, as during the First. And indeed
it is difficult to suggest why it should not. The norm was
not connected (like those relating to farm territory) with the
original division of the land at the time of Joshua, but
simply provided that a seller had a year in which to redeem
Ixxxiv INTRODUCTORY NOTE TO THIRD EDITION
the house he had sold, though it might never have belonged
to his ancestors.
Maintaining, like the other Hasideans, that the law of the
Jubilee applied to houses in walled cities even in his time,
Hillel resorted to an ordinance to protect the seller against
injustice. As the year drew to an end, it became customary
for a purchaser to hide in order to prevent the seller from
returning the purchase money and re-establishing himself
in the house. Hillel ordained that the seller need not hand
the money to the purchaser directly, but could leave it for
him in a specifically appointed place and that this would
redeem the house. The regular courts did not enforce the
law of the Jubilee, even in a walled city. Had they done so,
Hillel’s ordinance would have required their assent before
becoming effective. Hillel was not dealing with juridical
rights, but with Hasidean piety.
In Mishna ‘Arakin, loc. cit., Jerusalem was specifically
mentioned as one of the walled cities to which the law of
the Jubilee applied. However, a document survives (in
Abot of R. Nathan, I, ch. 35, 52b) indicating that the buyer
of a house in Jerusalem had to return it whenever the seller
wished to redeem the house, even after a year. This norm
is part of a code of ten sections, all dealing with laws apply-
ing to Jerusalem. I have elsewhere shown that this code
originated during the Great Rebellion against Rome (see
Alexander Marx Jubilee Volume, Hebrew section, pp. 358 f.).
It contains various hygienic provisions, which indicate con-
cern that overcrowding might lead to disease, and other
provisions which suggest fear that the Romans might plant
spies in the capital city.
However, the norm in this document dealing with houses
in Jerusalem contradicts that of Mishna ‘Arakin (loc. cit).
INTRODUCTORY NOTE TO THIRD EDITION IxXXV
The context of the norm in Abot of R. Nathan shows that
the authors of the document accepted the theory that Jeru-
salem had never belonged to any of the tribes, but to the
whole nation. Further, the owners of houses in Jerusalem,
the document claimed, did not own the land on which they
were built. Yet, it is not clear from the text why, granted
this theory, houses could be redeemed in perpetuity, or be
redeemable at all. Logically such houses might be classed
with chattels or other unlanded property which, once sold,
belonged to the buyer forever.
The answer seems to be that an old Hasidean norm
granted the seller the right to redeem a house in a walled
city. The compilers of the document in Ahot of R. Nathan
did not feel free to challenge this rule. On the other hand,
they felt the norm inadequate and in need of extension to
permit redemption in perpetuity.
Although the document, originating (as suggested above)
among the leaders of the Rebellion against Rome, was pre-
sumably Shammaitic (for the Rebellion was led by Sham-
maites and was opposed by the Hillelites), its authors ac-
cepted the view that the sale of houses in Jerusalem had to
be subject to redemption at the original price. Without
such provision (we already indicated) the sale of property
might simply be used to evade the laws against usury.
This innovation may have resulted, like other norms, from
local conditions when the struggle with Rome began. Many
country folk sought the comparative safety of Jerusalem
when the Roman legions were expected or were near. Many
inhabitants of Jerusalem wanted to flee. Their need to ex-
change all property for gold and silver and the provincials’
desire for quarters in Jerusalem would have raised the
prices of the houses, facilitating the flight of its inhabitants.
Ixxxvi INTRODUCTORY NOTE TO THIRD EDITION
The seller’s perpetual option to repurchase a sold house
greatly reduced its value, precisely what the leaders of the
Revolution desired.
From what has been said, it may be inferred that the
Hasideans always held the law of the Jubilee applied to
walled cities, at least during the Second Commonwealth;
and that this claim was denied by the Sadducees. The
Book of Jubilees was an effort to extend to the entire coun-
try the rule accepted by the Hasideans; and to demand that
the law of the Jubilee be observed throughout the land,
though not all the Jews dwelt in it and therefore the owners
of particular tracts could not prove ancestral rights to them.
Here, as with other controversies, the author of the Book
of Jubilees tried to avoid partiality through a new theory
which made the difference between Sadducee and Pharisee
irrelevant because it went far beyond the claims of either
group.
5. The Hasidean Criminal Law
Modes of punishment in the Mishna for violation of the
criminal law — like its civil law — differ significantly from the
letter of Scripture. Hasidean teachers seemingly considered
the Torah permissive in this regard rather than mandatory.
Indicated in the Supplement (pp. 708 ff.), the spirit of
biblical law itself suggested that while it is the province of
the Legislator to threaten severe punishment for infringe-
ment of the Divine word, it was the duty of the judge to
temper justice with mercy. The whole mishnaic and tal-
mudic system of judicial procedure in criminal cases illus-
trated this point.
The Supplement (pp. 720 ff.) states that the Hasideans
INTRODUCTORY NOTE TO THIRD EDITION IxXXvii
denied that the punishment of burning, imposed by the
Pentateuch in a few instances, meant burning at the stake.
Similarly they held that death by stoning really meant by
throwing from a great height. They refused to convict a
criminal on his own confession, holding that the verses re-
quiring evidence of two witnesses in capital cases (Deut.
17.6, 19.15) admitted of no exception whatsoever. They
would not convict a defendant found guilty by a majority
of one, although such a majority was sufficient for acquittal.
Once acquitted, a criminal could not (they said) be retried,
even if new evidence were discovered against him (Mishna
Sanhedrin, ch. 4). In general, they considered it far better
that many guilty go unpunished, than that anyone possibly
innocent should be convicted.
Being courts of arbitration, the pre-Maccabean Hasidean
tribunals did not claim authority to inflict punishment.
But even in theory, looking forward to the time when their
opinions would be authoritative, the Hasideans regarded
punishment as at best a necessary evil, to be avoided when-
ever possible. They opposed the summary judgments of the
Court of Priests which, as shown in the Supplement (pp.
720 fF.) disregarded the procedures insisted upon by Hasidean
law to protect those accused of crime. We are assured by
Josephus {Antiquities, XIII, 10.6) that later Pharisaism, at
times in power under the Hasmoneans, adhered to the
Hasidean doctrine of leniency in punishment. Josephus’
testimony in this regard is the more significant because he
generally records the Shammaite rather than the Hillelite
interpretation of Hasideanism, and the Shammaite inter-
pretation often tended to be influenced by the views of the
priests who dominated that school.
Yet as indicated below (pp. 720 flF.), the talmudic record
IxXXviii INTRODUCTORY NOTE TO THIRD EDITION
apparently recognized the Court of Priests as de facto au-
thoritative in the Temple. There is even a suggestion that
this Court of Priests (to be distinguished from the tribunal
known to the Pharisees as that of the Chamber of Hewn
Stones, in which they claimed the right to be included)
exercised authority of this type in the case of certain trans-
gressions, even when committed outside the Temple pre-
cincts. Thus Midrash Tannaim 13.9 (p. 65) preserves a
norm through which a man seeking to entice others to idol-
worship incurred just such summary punishment. The
Mishna did not include this norm, so we must assume that
Midrash Tannaim transmitted merely a claim of the Temple
priesthood, rejected by authoritative Pharisaism but pre-
served traditionally in one of its schools.
While as shown below (pp. 720 ff.), the Hasideans and in
later generations within the ranks of Pharisaism the Hillelites
resisted the doctrine of the talioy the concept of “measure for
measure” as Heavenly punishment and a law of Nature,
survived in the Talmud. The concept seems to have origi-
nated with the admonition of the Temple priests to the
woman brought before them by her husband on suspicion
of adultery, to undergo the ordeal of the bitter waters
(Num. 5.1 S.). To obtain a confession from the woman and
thus spare her the ordeal, she would, according to both
Mishna (Sotah 1.4) and Tosefta (ibid. 1.6, p. 293), be ad-
dressed with moving words. Apparently these stirring
admonitions included historical examples suggested by
Scripture, indicating the certainty of Divine punishment
“measure for measure.” Samson had transgressed with his
eyes (being lured by them to pursue illicit love) and ulti-
mately was blinded. Absalom, having taken undue pride in
his hair, was in the end destroyed through its abundance
INTRODUCTORY NOTE TO THIRD EDITION Ixxxix
(Mishna ibid. 1.8). R. Meir draws the inference from all
these examples that “all the measures of God are measure
for measure” (Tosefta Sotah 3.1, p. 295). And indeed prob-
ably R. Meir was in this instance, as often on other occa-
sions, simply transmitting priestly traditions. Presumably
these fragments of ancient homilies were preserved in the
Mishna and Tosefta of Sotah (the treatise dealing with the
ordeal of the suspected woman) because they were part of
the admonition to a woman about to undergo the prescribed
ordeal. This seems implied in Sifre Numbers (12, p. 18).
The priestly tradition of measure for measure seems to
underlie a famous maxim of Hillel, who with the other
members of his school rejected the talio so far as human
courts were concerned. Like other maxims of Hillel, this
one seems addressed especially to the priesthood. He had
urged them to be disciples of Aaron, no less than his physical
descendants; maintaining that Aaron was characterized by
love of peace and the pursuit of peace, love of people and
the desire to bring them to the Torah (Mishna Abot 1.12).
Certainly the Shammaitic priests of Hillel’s day could not
be considered lovers of peace, for they counselled and even
urged rebellion against Rome. Nor could they be described
as seeking to bring the general population near the Torah,
for they held that the Torah should be taught only to the
wealthy and the aristocrats {Abot of R. Nathan, I, ch. 3, beg.).
Hillel argued that while Heavenly punishment might be
marked by “measure for measure,” it was apportioned not
only to transgressors, but also to those who summarily (and
therefore illegally) punished transgressors. From the
Hasidean and Hillelite point of view, already observed,
judges themselves had to be careful lest in their desire to
xc
INTRODUCTORY NOTE TO THIRD EDITION
punish the sinful they themselves fall into transgression.
Hillel used the example of a skull floating on a river to ad-
monish: “Because thou didst drown others, thou hast been
drowned; but in the end, those who drowned thee, will them-
selves suffer a similar fate” (Mishna Abot 2.4). Although the
man who had perished might have deserved his fate, those
responsible for his death would not be held guiltless. Thus
Hillel used the very doctrine of “measure for measure,” ex-
horting the priestly judiciary to shun what he considered its
extra-legal and illegal judgments.
6. The Unwritten Hasidean Ritual Law
So far as the ritual was concerned, not only did the
Hasideans adhere faithfully to the letter and spirit of the
Pentateuchal text, but we have already noted that they
observed many norms not found in Scripture. Hasideans
claimed to have received from their forebears norms which
amplified and made specific the general statements of Scrip-
ture (Josephus, Antiquities, XIII, 10.6).
These traditions, rejected by the Sadducees, Josephus
clearly implied, dealt not with the civil or criminal law, but
with ritual. Because of the restrictions which the norms
involved, the Sadducees resisted them. (This statement of
Josephus would alone be sufficient to refute the widespread
notion that Sadducism originated in pious adherence to the
Law with which the Pharisees dealt cavalierly.) These tra-
ditions received by the Pharisees from their fathers included
not only many detailed rules regarding observances on the
Sabbath (cf. Mishna Hagigah 1.8; Mishna Shabbat, ch. 7),
but many other extrapolations of biblical law.
Thus the term “vow” as used in the Pentateuch regularly
INTRODUCTORY NOTE TO THIRD EDITION Xci
denoted the vow of a sacrifice or other gift to the Sanctuary
(cf. Lev. 21.20; 23; Deut. 13.6; 17; 26; 24.22; cf. further
Judg. 11.30; Ps. 114.16; Eccl. 5.4). Numbers (30.3 if.),
however, suggested that a vow might also be secular, simply
a pledge to do or not to do something otherwise permitted.
This was an extension of the law dealing with vows to the
Temple. A vow to the Temple had to be kept, as the verses
from Deuteronomy and Ecclesiastes demonstrated. When
a man declared an animal korban, “a sacrifice,” it became
holy, so that he could use it for no purpose other than a
Temple offering.
But what if he declared part of his property “like a kor-
ban”-, that is to say, bestowed on it the status of a sacrifice,
meaning it could not be used by him or anyone else, but yet
was not to be devoted to the Temple? Hasidean law de-
clared such a vow valid. If he had declared the property
“like a korban” only so far as he was concerned, it was for-
bidden to him; if to anyone else, it was forbidden to that
person.
Given readily to vows, perhaps in attempts to establish
the veracity of their assertions, particularly in trade, the
ancient Judaites would resort to circumlocutions through
use of words which sounded like korban, but were diflFerent
(precisely as many moderns, to avoid oaths, use arbitrary
terms reminiscent of them yet different from them). All
such expressions were declared by the Hasideans to have
the eflfect of the word korban itself. The object was forbidden
either to the owner, if he said the material was korban to
him, or to another if the owner made the material korban
to that person. One could also declare another’s property
to be “like a korban” to oneself. One could go further.
One could declare abstract or intangible benefits to be like
XCll
INTRODUCTORY NOTE TO THIRD EDITION
a korban. Thus, a husband could declare himself “like a
korban” so far as his wife was concerned, or declare her
“like a korban” so far as he was concerned. In either case
normal marital association between them became prohibited
(cf, Mishna Nedarim 1.1; 3; 4; 2.1; 3.1 et al.). However,
resort to a scholar was open to a person who had uttered
such a vow and wished to indicate his regret at having
made it. The scholar would then seek “an opening” in the
terms of the vow to find it inapplicable. Human speech
being what it is, it was almost impossible not to find a par-
ticular situation excluded from the vow. The Hasidean
scholars frequently exercised great ingenuity in discovering
such “openings.” Thus R. Eliezer held that a scholar might
ask the person under the vow whether he had considered the
honor due his parents, who might be ashamed of a son given
to vows made in anger (Mishna Nedarim 9.1). R. Eliezer
further held that a vow might be annulled if the person
under it admitted that he had not foreseen developments
which actually occurred. Thus if a person vowed that
nothing belonging to him should be used or enjoyed by
someone who had particularly angered him, who then
achieved unexpected prominence which made the vow
especially embarrassing, admission that foresight regarding
this development would have prevented the vow was suffi-
cient, according to R. Eliezer, to obtain release from it
(ibid.). R. Meir held that one might ask a person under a
vow whether he had realized he was violating various bibli-
cal norms, such as “Thou shalt not take vengeance” (Lev.
19.18): if the swearer admitted that he had not realized the
violation the oath was deemed nullified (ibid. 9.2).
The colleagues of R. Eliezer and R. Meir considered their
view too lenient, but agreed that if a man vowed no longer
INTRODUCTORY NOTE TO THIRD EDITION
XCUl
to associate with his wife, he might be reminded of his obli-
gations to pay her her dower in case of divorce. If he had
forgotten, and asserted that had he remembered he would
not have taken the vow, he could be released from it (ibid.
9.4). All agreed that one might appeal to the sense of dig-
nity of the person taking the vow. If reminded that it was
undignified for him or a disgrace to his children to divorce
his wife (on the basis of a vow), and he admitted he had not
considered that, the vow was nullified (ibid. 9.5). On one
occasion a man vowed not to marry his niece and then re-
gretted it. The case came before R. Ishmael, who noticed
that being underfed she seemed uncomely. R. Ishmael took
her into his house, looked after her and adorned her, then
introducing her to her uncle asked whether he had vowed
not to marry this woman. When the man agreed that he
had only made a vow against the niece in her previous con-
dition, R. Ishmael “released” the vow (Mishna Nedarim,
loc. cit.).
The Mishna admitted there was no biblical basis for
scholars to offer release from vows (Mishna Hagigah 1.6).
“The release of vows floats in the air, and has no verse on
which to depend,” the Mishna stated. But in effect so did
the principle that vows were effective when not associated
with a sacrifice or other gift to the Temple.
In brief, the Hasideans or their predecessors, having ex-
trapolated the concept of the vow, also limited its binding
force. We may be sure that the Proto-Sadducees recognized
neither the right of the scholars to release vows nor the
concept that a vow was binding in secular life.
It seems probable that Sadducean marriage law differed
from that of the Hasideans in an important detail. Among
Hasideans a woman became “betrothed” in the sense of
XCIV
INTRODUCTORY NOTE TO THIRD EDITION
Deuteronomy 22.23, if she received as token of marriage
either a gift or a writ of marriage, or if she and her prospec-
tive fiance cohabited (Mishna Kiddushin 1.1). It seems
clear that among the Proto-Sadducees betrothal consisted
rather in the document by which the father of the bride
transferred his rights to the prospective husband (cf. Tobit
7.13).
Cohabitation as a form of betrothal seemed inconceivable
for the aristocratic Proto-Sadducees and Sadduceans in
Jerusalem. It probably was limited to the lower classes in
Judea (Mishna Ketubot 1.4), and as a custom originated in
the primitive institution of the matriarchate. Similarly,
the mohar paid by a husband for his wife (cf. Ex. 22.15),
from which arose the symbolic presentation of a valuable
gift to the woman in token of “betrothal,” seems to have
been characteristic of the lower classes. And so was the
drafting of a document by the husband which in its original
form presumably was an acceptance of a claim to pay the
mohar on demand. This form of betrothal doubtless was
instituted to help the impecunious suitor who cou’d not
provide the necessary cash (cf. B. Ketubot 82b).
In any event, so great an authority as Maimonides, fol-
lowing a tradition going back to the Geonim, holds that
betrothal through a gift is of Sopheric origin (Maim., Yad,
Ishut, 1.2; cf. commentaries, ad loc.).
This may explain the assertion in the Psalms of Solomon
8.13 (12) accusing the Sadducean High Priests of living with
women wedded to others. The Sadducees simply did not
recognize the Pharisaic law of marriage in this regard.
In the narrower area of ritual, biblical law specifically
prohibited only seething a kid in its mother’s milk (Ex.
23.19, 34.26; Deut. 14.21). But this book shows (pp. 58 ff.)
INTRODUCTORY NOTE TO THIRD EDITION
XCV
that in Hasidean law this prohibition extended to all mix-
tures of meat and milk, and to the use of such mixtures for
food. These extrapolations were entirely within the spirit
of the biblical commandment, as shown in the discussion in
this book (loc. cit.). But the Sadducees may have challenged
them.
Surprisingly, Proto-Sadducees apparently contended that
the injunction against eating the blood of animals did not
apply to some sacrificial animals. The prohibition in several
passages in the Pentateuch recurs in the peace-offering
(cf. Lev, 3.17; 7.26; 17.10 ff.; cf. however Deut. 12.23). It
was particularly noteworthy that the punishment of being
“rooted out from among the people” for this transgression
is mentioned only in the passage dealing with the peace-
offering (Lev. 7.27; 17.10 ff.).
Perhaps, following the injunction given in Deuteronomy
12.23, the Sadducees agreed that the blood of animals
slaughtered for secular use could not be eaten. But Saddu-
cees apparently held that the blood of sacrifices, such as the
sin-offering, could be eaten by priests. Indeed it was prob-
ably deemed part of the ritual for the priest to consume
this blood, because through the process a transgressor ob-
tained atonement. Regarding sacrificial meat, Sifra asserted
that “the priests eat [the prescribed portions] and the per-
sons offering the sacrifices are forgiven” (Sifra Sheminiy
perek 2.4, 47b). Similarly the Proto-Sadducean priests ap-
parently held that the blood of the sin-offering eaten by the
priests (after some had been sprinkled on the altar) helped
obtain forgiveness for a transgressor.
It seems, too, that the Proto-Sadducees permitted the
eating of fats which the Hasideans considered forbidden.
These fats were those Leviticus 3.3 and similar passages re-
XCVl
INTRODUCTORY NOTE TO THIRD EDITION
quired to be sacrificed on the altar. According to Hasidean
law, the Bible forbade eating such fats from domestic ani-
mals, even if they were not sacrifices. However, the Penta-
teuch al injunction against eating these fats always occurred
in the context of the laws of the peace-oflFerings, and this
fact suggested to the Sadducees that only fats of specified
offerings (Lev. 3.17; 7.22 ff.) were prohibited.
The law which limited the time for consumption of sac-
rificial meat whether by priests or laity (when permitted
them at all) also occurred in the Pentateuch only in associa-
tion with the peace-offering (Lev. 6.17; 19.6). According to
this rule, the meat of the peace-offering might be eaten on
the day of the sacrifice and on the morrow, but not later.
The meat of the sacrifice of thanks, which was a variant of
the peace-offering, might be eaten only on the day of the
sacrifice (Lev. 6.9).
In Hasidean law the latter norm applied however to all
sacrificial meat which could be eaten (Sifra Zav, perek 12.1,
35c). These included the sin-offering and the guilt-offering.
According to Mishna Zebahim 6.2, it applied also to the meal-
offering.
Apparently the Sadducees and their predecessors rejected
such extrapolation of the Written Word. It appears that
they permitted in secular food use of the type of fat which in
the peace-offering was sacrificed on the altar; that they did
not consider applicable the norm prohibiting meat left beyond
a time limit, except where explicitly stated; and that they did
not even forbid drinking the blood of some sacrifices, perhaps
not even of domestic animals slaughtered for secular use.
That is why Tosefta Horayot 1.17, p. 474, asserts that if the
Supreme Court (that of the Chamber of Hewn Stones in the
Temple) gave permission to eat such food considered pro-
INTRODUCTORY NOTE TO THIRD EDITION XCYll
hibited by the Pharisees, it would have to bring a sacrifice
of atonement, such as described in Leviticus 4.18 ff.
Emphasis on these norms in the Book of Jubilees also
confirms the suggestion that they were subjects of contro-
versy. The book repeatedly stressed the injunction against
eating any blood. Pointedly, this prohibition is addressed
in one passage to Levi, apparently because the priests re-
quired a special admonition on the subject (see Jub. 6.9 ff.;
7.28 fF.;21.6, 18).
On the other hand, the Book of Jubilees mentioned only
that the fat of the peace-offering was to be sacrified on the
altar (21.9), and demanded only that the meat of that sacri-
fice be consumed within the specified time (ibid. v. 10).
Presumably the author agreed with the Hasideans regarding
the prohibition of blood, but with the Proto-Sadducean
priests regarding the fats and the law on eating sacrificial
meat after the specified time.
These controversies regarding forbidden food are replaced
— in similar context — in Mishna Horayot 1.3 by three others
apparently likewise subjects of differences between Proto-
Sadducees and Hasideans. The Mishna mentioned first the
prohibition against carrying burdens on the Sabbath which
the Sadducees rejected, at least so far as it concerned car-
rying from house into court or from one house into another
(see below. Section 7). The Mishna further hinted that
while the Proto-Sadducees of course forbade idol worship,
they did not consider genuflection in the presence of idols
to be idolatry, if they were not accepted as Divine (cf. Yer.
ad loc.). Finally, the Proto-Sadducees seem to have rejected
Hasidean interpretation of the rules dealing with menstrual
impurity.
XCviii INTRODUCTORY NOTE TO THIRD EDITION
This controversy requires explanation. It originated in
exegesis of the passage beginning, “And if a woman have an
issue of blood many days not in the time of her impurity”
(Lev. 15.25). Naturally a question arose about the meaning
of the phrase “many days.” And precisely what was meant
by “not in the time of her impurity” i
To Hasidean physiology the beginning of one menstrual
period was separated from the next by at least eighteen
days. Therefore if blood appeared more than eighteen days
after the beginning of the preceding menstruation it was
normal menstrual fluid. Moreover, once menstruation had
begun, any blood appearing within seven days was menstrual.
The time under consideration in the biblical passage just
quoted was therefore eleven days after the end of the
menstrual period.
“Many days” (the Hasideans held) could not be fewer than
three. Thus a woman suffering “an issue of blood” for three
successive days within the eleven day period mentioned be-
came zabah, i.e., “a woman with a flow.” When cured, she
waited seven days (during which she was considered defiled)
to make sure of her health. If she remained normal, she
bathed. On the following day she brought prescribed sac-
rifices of purification.
However, even if “the issue” continued only for two days,
the Hasideans considered the woman diseased. They de-
clared her defiled, and required her to watch for further
symptoms for seven days. If the symptoms did not recur
within the week, she bathed, and was pure. She did not
offer the sacrifices of purification, because sacrifices pre-
scribed for special occasions could not be brought as volun-
tary offerings (Sifra Zabim, perek 8.4, 79a).
The Hasideans went further. Even if the “issue of blood”
INTRODUCTORY NOTE TO THIRD EDITION
XCIX
appeared only once, the woman was impure for the following
day, during which she had to watch for repetition of the
symptom. If none occurred, she bathed, and was declared
pure (Sifra, loc. cit.; cf. Mishna Niddah 10, end).
The Mishna implied that the Proto-Sadducees challenged
this norm. They apparently denied that in such instances
a woman became impure at all, for the biblical text specif-
ically spoke of “many days.” Hence the Document of the
Sect of Damascus (following Hasidean halakah in this case)
accused the high-priestly groups of “lying with her who sees
blood of her issue” (see S. Schechter, Documents of Jewish
Sectaries, I, p. 5; R. H. Charles, Apochrypha and Pseude-
pigrapha, II, p. 810; and cf. Professor Ginzberg’s Eine un-
bekannte jued. Sekte, p. 30).
The author of the Psalms of Solomon 8.13 (12) may have
referred to this controversy in his charge that the Sadducees
defiled the sacrifices “with menstrual blood” (see R. H.
Charles, op. cit., p. 640).
While some of these controversies dealt with sacrifices,
this was only incidentally. The prohibition against eating
animal blood applied generally. The Hasideans merely ob-
jected to the Proto-Sadducean priests’ declaration that they
were exempt from part of the ban. The prohibition against
eating the sacrificial meat after the prescribed time applied
to the laity given part of the thank-offering, the tithed
animals, and similar sacrifices.
We have already observed regarding the criminal law
that early Hasideans did not generally consider themselves
authorized to decide questions of Temple practice. Hence,
the talmudic assertion that norms under the classification of
shebut had no application to the Sanctuary. Such norms
forbade on the Sabbath labor inconsistent with its spirit,
c
INTRODUCTORY NOTE TO THIRD EDITION
though not included among the types of work specifically
prohibited. Apparently because the priests refused to rec-
ognize the principle of shebut, the norms deriving from it
had never been adopted by the Temple authorities. The
Hasideans admitted the priests' right to reject the norms,
so far as the Temple worship was concerned (Mishna
‘Erubin, ch. 10; and cf. Babli, ibid. 102a).
The Temple authorities also permitted on the Sabbath
labor ancillary to the sacrificial ritual, though it might have
been performed before the Sabbath. The Hillelites forbade
this and presumably their view retained that of the early
Hasideans. Drawn largely from the priesthood, the Sham-
maitic Pharisees held that the Temple practice was consist-
ent with the Law (see Mishna Pesahim 6.1, in the name of
R. Eliezer). No one questioned the priests’ decisions re-
garding the New Moon or the intercalary year.
Also accepted was the priestly view that a woman who
had suffered a miscarriage should under certain circum-
stances bring the sacrifice required for a normal birth, but
that the sacrifice should be burned rather than offered on
the altar (Mishna Temurah 7.6). Although it is very diffi-
cult to find Scriptural support for their position, the priests’
insistence that a proselyte or a captive could not marry into
the priestly group has persisted in all rabbinic codes down
to our day (cf. Maimonides, Yad, Issure Biah, 18.3, and
commentaries, ad loc.; ibid. 18.17; and B. Kiddushin 78a;
ibid. Yebamot 60b). The priests’ refusal to allow a proselyte
(including in the term descendants of proselytes) to act as
judge was followed, so far as the Court of the Chamber of
Hewn Stones (which the priests controlled) was concerned
(B. Yebamot 101b).
On the other hand, the text of this book shows that (pp.
INTRODUCTORY NOTE TO THIRD EDITION
Cl
102 fF.; 115 fF.; 118 fF.; 121 ff.) and in the Supplement (pp.
641 ff.; 654 ff.; 661 ff.; 700 ff.), the Hasideans resisted
priestly decisions on four issues which at first glance appear
to deal with sacrifices or the Temple ritual. The Hasideans
insisted that the High Priest perform according to the letter
of the Law the ritual of offering the incense on the Day of
Atonement. They demanded that the priest sacrificing the
red heifer be a tebul yom, rather than entirely purified.
They insisted that the heave offering {Omer) be sacrificed
according to their tradition, rather than according to the
priestly one. They offered water-libations during Sukkot,
and observed the ceremonies connected with it.
In each of these cases, the Hasideans considered them-
selves no less involved than the priests, and therefore held
that the issues were under Hasidean jurisdiction. The High
Priest offered atonement for all Israel on the Day of Atone-
ment and was the agent of the people (see below p. 659).
If he violated the Law, he might imperil the whole nation
and each individual within it. The ashes of the red heifer
were essential to purify those defiled through contact with
the dead, whether inside or outside the Temple. Therefore
the ashes had to be prepared as the Hasideans demanded.
Moreover, a large part of the ceremony took place on the
Mount of Olives, outside Temple precincts. The days be-
tween Passover and Shabuot had to be counted by each
Jew (Sifra Emor, perek 12.1, lOOd), because each had to
observe the festival of Shabuot on the appointed day.
Besides, no one was permitted to eat new grain until the
Omer had been sacrificed. The ceremony of the water-liba-
tions on Sukkot, associated with the rainfall, was of concern
to the whole community, especially because it was the only
Temple ritual in which the whole community could partici-
Cii INTRODUCTORY NOTE TO THIRD EDITION
pate directly. The Hasideans seemed to believe that the
general Jewish concern for these ceremonies led to Hasidean
jurisdiction over the Temple and priestly practice regarding
them. These examples were not, therefore, really exceptions
to the principle that the early Hasideans permitted the
Temple Court to guide its ritual.
7. Light on Pharisaism and Sadducism from the Book of
Jubilees
The controversies of the Proto-Pharisees and Proto-
Sadducees are illumined through one of the major attempts
during the Second Commonwealth to restore the unity of
Jewish law, the publication of the Book of Jubilees. At the
same time, the priests’ tendency to deviate from the ritual
enables us to understand the daring innovations proposed
by this author. The book was almost certainly composed
in pre-Hasmonean times (see below, p. 641). Apparently, it
was the work of a patriotic, dedicated priest of the lower
classes who saw peril to the nation in the increasing bitter-
ness between the Temple High Priests and the Sages of
Israel. (The Pharisaic scholars were regularly called by that
name in the Talmud, cf. B. Kiddushin 66a, et al., not to
distinguish them from Gentile scholars, but from the priestly
judges who were mainly Sadducees, see below, pp. 727 ff.
for the significance of the similar term, “Court of Israel.”)
The author undertook to dispose of all the controversies,
through compromises and suggestions which made them
irrelevant. He seemingly held that the restoration of peace
within Israel was so vital an achievement as to justify even
departure from the text of the Pentateuch. To obtain ac-
ceptance of his work, he asserted that it had been secretly
INTRODUCTORY NOTE TO THIRD EDITION
Clll
given to Moses on Mt. Sinai and, rediscovered in the time
of the Second Commonwealth, was to replace the Oral Law
of the Proto-Pharisees.
a. The Date of Shabuot
The controversy concerning the time and meaning of the
Shabuot festival was to be resolved through substitution of
a solar for the lunar calendar. This solar calendar was so
conceived that every festival day would occur on a Sunday.
This would meet the economic problem of the priests whose
term ended on the Sabbath before a festival and who had
to look after their needs without help of the Temple authori-
ties when several days intervened between the Sabbath day
and the festival day (see below, pp. 643 ff.). On the other
hand, the invention of the proposed solar calendar enabled
the author to admit that Shabuot, always occurring on the
same day of the month, commemorated the giving of the
Law and the covenant between God and Noah. The Ju-
bilaic author proposed that the forty-nine days between
Passover . and Shabuot be counted from the last day of
Passover, rather than from the first as the Hasideans de-
manded, or from the Sabbath of the festival week as the
Proto-Sadducees demanded.
The author doubtless hoped that the Hasidean scholars
would accept his proposed solar calendar, for according to
it the word Shabbat, Leviticus, chapter 23, meant festival,
in agreement with their view, rather than Sabbath, as the
Proto-Sadducees held. On the other hand, he believed he
had satisfied the Proto-Sadducees, because they would
benefit practically from the proximity of each festival to the
Sabbath day.
That adoption of the solar calendar was proposed to re-
civ INTRODUCTORY NOTE TO THIRD EDITION
solve the ancient controversy regarding the date of Shabuot
is evident from the fact that the author inserts the discussion
of the calendar into the context of the laws pertaining to
that festival.
Lest any reader suppose that the sacrifices prescribed for
Shabuot might be brought as voluntary offerings at the time
prescribed by his own group, the author stresses the norm
requiring all the offerings mentioned in Scripture in con-
nection with this festival to be made on the day he had set
for it (Jub. 6.22). Thus it would not be possible for a con-
scientious Proto-Sadducee or Hasidean to bring the offering
of the two loaves at some time other than that set in the
Book of Jubilees, in order to satisfy the demands of his own
tradition.
b. Carrying on the Sabbath Day
The author accepted the Hasidean prohibition against
carrying burdens on the Sabbath day, not only from home
to the public highway or from there home, but even from a
house into another house or into the courtyard or vice versa
(Jub, 2.30; 50.8). He went further. He declared it forbidden
to lift a burden with intent to carry it out of a house. But
he did not mention the law of the *erul>, which in obvious
agreement with the Proto-Sadducees he rejected (cf. above,
Section 6).
c. The Sukkot Ceremonies
The author did not abolish the ceremony of the water-
libations. However, he hoped once again to placate the
Proto-Sadducees by removing the ritual from the Sukkot
festival to the Passover (Jub. 49.22). Because the associa-
tion of Sukkot with rain was rejected in the Book of Jubilees
INTRODUCTORY NOTE TO THIRD EDITION
CV
(to suit the feelings of the Proto-Sadducees), the various
rituals developed in connection with willow branches were
also abolished. The procession with the willows about the
altar was not mentioned. On the contrary, on each of the
Sukkot days there was to be a procession about the altar,
seven times with palm branch and citron (and presumably
also with willow and myrtle). This provision of Jubilees
16.31 opposed Mishna Sukkah 4.4, 5, according to which
the members of the procession carried willow branches going
about the altar only once on the first six days of Sukkot and
seven times on the seventh.
On the other hand, the mandate of the Book of Jubilees
was in conflict with another norm of the Mishna. According
to the Mishna (Sukkah 4.1) the lulab was to be taken on
the Sabbath, only if it coincided with the first day of Sukkot.
If any of the other six days of the festival occurred on the
Sabbath, the lulab was not to be touched. The Book of
Jubilees makes no such distinction, holding that there was
to be a procession carrying the citrons and palm branches
on each of the seven days, although obviously one would be
a Sabbath.
The author did not even provide that, in order to partici-
pate in the procession on the Sabbath, the palm branches
and the fruit should be brought to the Temple on Friday,
as Mishna Sukkah 4.2 required if the first day occurred on
a Sabbath (when according to it, the lulab was to be taken
in the normal manner). Probably the priestly author of the
Book of Jubilees held that, whenever a Temple ceremonial
was permitted on the Sabbath, all preparations for it were
also permitted, even though they might have been arranged
on Friday. This was exactly the position taken by R.
Eliezer and the Shammaites generally, and opposed by the
Cvi INTRODUCTORY NOTE TO THIRD EDITION
Hillelites whose views were transmitted by R. Joshua (see
Mishna Pesahim 6.1).
Thus the question raised by the Proto-Sadducees whether
it was permitted to beat the willows on the ground on the
Sabbath day was circumvented (see below, p. 703).
During each of the seven days of Sukkot the Book of
Jubilees required that the Hallel be recited with joy, com-
memorating Abraham’s celebration of the festival, in which
“he praised and gave thanks to his God for all things with
joy” (Jub., loc. cit.).
(It is significant that according to a baraitUy both recorded
in Tosefta Sukkah 3.1, p. 195, ed. Lieberman, p. 266, and in
Babli Sukkah 43b, the Boethusians, and apparently also
the Sadducees and the Proto-Sadducees, denied that the
ritual of “beating the willows” could be performed on the
Sabbath. Of course Professor Lieberman points out in
Tosefta Ki-Fshutah, Sukkah, p. 870, the sectarians rejected
all the ceremonies associated solely with the willows, in-
cluding the procession. One would therefore expect the
baraita to have said that they did not agree that “the willow
[ceremony] sets aside the Sabbath.” However, the sectarians
did not recognize any violation of the Sabbath law in con-
nection with the willow ceremonies, aside from beating the
willows on the ground. This was because the sectarians al-
ready remarked in Section 6, did not regard carrying a
burden from place to place on the Sabbath a violation of
the Law. The Hasideans and the Pharisees did; and there-
fore when the seventh day of Sukkot occurred on the Sab-
bath, they brought their willows to the Temple on Friday.)
From the Book of Jubilees it is manifest that not only
priests but all Israelites participated in these processions,
following the example of Abraham. This seems to be also
INTRODUCTORY NOTE TO THIRD EDITION
evil
the meaning of the Mishna (Sukkah 4.5). It is further im-
plied in the baraita already mentioned, and transmitted in
Tosefta Sukkah 3.1, p. 195, ed. Lieberman, p. 266, where we
are told that the '^am ha-arez, finding the willows covered
with rocks by the Boethusians, dragged the branches out,
presumably to participate in the procession. The text of
this baraita (re B. Sukkah 43b) suggested that only the
“priests,” and not the laity, approached the altar. There-
fore Babli holds that in the famous incident, after the ^am
ha-arez had drawn the willows out from under the rocks,
the priests set the branches up on the sides of the altar.
Rashi (ad loc.) properly concludes that according to Babli
Israelites could not march about the altar, because only
qualified priests (without a blemish, and who had washed
their hands and feet) could enter the area separating the
altar from the Porch of the Temple building. In this Rashi
was followed by all the commentators on the Mishna.
However, the question whether a priest who had failed
to wash his hands and feet might enter the particularly
sacred space was itself a controversial subject. Simeon the
Pious told R. Eliezer that he himself had done so (Tosefta
Kelim I, 1.6, p. 569). R. Eliezer retorted that Simeon had
escaped alive after this transgression only because it was not
detected (see ibid.; and cf. below, p. 732).
Tosefta Sukkah 4.23 (p. 200, ed. Lieberman, p. 277) re-
ported that the shewbread was divided among the officiating
priests in this very area. But the portion of the bread given
the priests “with a blemish” was removed “without” (i.e.,
to the general space of the Court of Priests; see Professor
Lieberman, Tosefta Ki-Fshutah, ad loc.), “because they
could not enter the space between the altar and the ‘porch.’ ”
Cviii INTRODUCTORY NOTE TO THIRD EDITION
The view that a priest “with a blemish” or who had not
washed his hands and feet might not enter this sacred space
was confirmed by Mishna Kelim 1.9, which added that
priests with hair long uncut (that is, whose hair had been
uncut for thirty days), also could not enter that space.
The Mishna does not specify the rule for priests who had
not washed their hands and feet. Presumably, this is be-
cause the Mishna followed the view of R. Meir, according
to whom such priests might come into the sacred space
(Tosefta Kelim, loc. cit.). But this lenient view was re-
jected by R. Meir’s colleagues (ibid.). Sifre Zutta 5.2, p.
228, maintained that priests “with a blemish, or uncut hair,
or who had drunk wine” could not enter that part of the
Court of Priests. (However, the text of Sifre Zutta seems
to have been emended in transmission, and to have dealt
originally only with priests with uncut hair or who had
drunk wine.)
The issue had — it appears — never really been clarified.
Presumably it was the subject of an early diflference of
opinion. We may be able to discover this by asking, on
what occasion did Simeon the Pious enter the holy place,
without washing his hands and feet from the laver placed
there (cf. Ex. 30.20). Obviously, he did not walk behind
the altar and in front of the Sanctuary itself merely from
curiosity. If he went there to receive his portion of the
shewbread, he would have washed his hands and feet before
taking the food, for eating the holy food was itself an act
of worship. Moreover, under such circumstances, how
could R. Eliezer claim that Simeon the Pious had escaped
death for the transgression only because no one noticed his
violation of the law? If all the priests about to receive their
portion of the shewbread washed their hands and feet as
INTRODUCTORY NOTE TO THIRD EDITION cix
they came into the holy area, and Simeon did not, his failure
to do so would have been noticed very quickly.
Perhaps, we are justified in assuming that the event oc-
curred during the Sukkot processions. Israelites partici-
pating in this ceremony did not wash their hands and feet,
but priests did because they always washed their hands and
feet on approaching the space between the altar and the
“Porch.” Simeon the Pious failed to do so, because he did
not believe it necessary on that occasion. R. Eliezer main-
tained that if Simeon had been caught violating the law in
this respect, he would have met his death. If this interpre-
tation is correct, we may further assume that R. Eliezer
was in this instance (as so frequently) transmitting tradi-
tions of the Shammaitic priesthood. Simeon the Pious fol-
lowed the views of the Proto-Hillelites and the earlier
Hasideans who considered the omission of washing per-
mitted.
R. Meir, who allowed priests whose hands and feet had not
been washed (Tosefta Kelim I, 1.6, p. 569) to enter this
area of the Court of Priests, likewise was transmitting a
Proto-Hillelite tradition, which we know from the Tosefta
Sukkah 4.23 was not followed in Temple practice. (Cf.
Mishna Zebahim 2.1 declaring unfit for worship a priest not
clothed as prescribed, or who had drunk wine, or had not
washed his hands and feet; and considering a ritual per-
formed by one of them invalid. Cf., however, B. Sanhedrin
83 a, according to which a priest who performed acts of
worship while his hair had been uncut for thirty days was
punishable by death, so that presumably any act of worship
by him also was void. The same view was expressed by
Tosefta Zebahim 12.17, p. 498.) From these sources we may
conclude that no priest in those categories could enter the
cx
INTRODUCTORY NOTE TO THIRD EDITION
sacred area between the altar and the “Porch.” (Cf. Sidre
Toharot, Kelim, Yosepof, 1873, 68a, for a broad and pro-
found discussion of the whole subject and the various texts
bearing on it.)
Thus the question, whether a priest unfit for worship on
the altar might under any conditions go into the area dis-
cussed, was debated in early times. The priests held that
he might not; the Proto-Hillelites held that he might.
While later authorities, like R. Eliezer, might draw a fine
distinction between unqualified priests and Israelites re-
garding entry into the special part of the Court of Priests,
in earlier times those who banished from it disqualified
priests (who had not washed their hands and feet, or who
had a blemish) would certainly refuse to admit non-priests.
It follows that those who allowed the non-priests to
march about the altar with their willows were Proto-
Hillelites and early Hasideans. The priests objected to
the practice, but were unable to prevent it, as they were
unable to suppress the ceremonies connected with the
water-libations. Thus the tradition permitting the laity to
march about the altar followed that of the Hillelites and
early Hasideans. That preserved in Babli followed the
practice of the Temple priests which came into Pharisaism
through the Shammaite tradition.
The Book of Jubilees sided with the Hasideans in this
instance, and suggested therefore that the procession could
include non-priests.
The Proto-Sadducees, who objected to the ritual of water-
libations and beating the willows on the Temple ground on
the seventh day of Sukkot, objected also to these proces-
sions. In their eyes the processions violated the holiness of
the Temple court, because even a priest with a blemish,
INTRODUCTORY NOTE TO THIRD EDITION
CXI
or who had not washed his hands and feet, or whose hair
had not been cut, was banned from going into this partic-
ularly sacred spot. Surely then an Israelite or Levite was
not permitted to enter the area.
The Book of Jubilees, rejecting the concept that Sukkot
was a period of “judgment for rain” (Mishna Rosh ha-
Shanah 1.2), also rejected the theory that it was a season
of sacrifice on behalf of “the peoples of the world.” Scrip-
ture required seventy bullocks to be sacrificed during the
seven Sukkot days, with thirteen on the first, one less each
succeeding day, and ending with seven on the seventh day
(Num. 29.13 ff.). These seventy bullocks were interpreted
as atonement for the seventy nations of the world (B.
Sukkah 55b). The fierce nationalism of the Book of Jubilees
could not support this concept. Indeed, the author held
that Sukkot was not a period of judgment for rain — a
necessity for all mankind — and therefore the main reason
for the sacrifices was lacking. So with remarkable intrepidity
the Jubilaic author changed the number of sacrifices to be
olFered on the Sukkot days (Jub. 16.22 and 32.4).
In further vent to his anti-Gentilism, the author pro-
hibited any but Israelites from dwelling in the Sukkot
booths (Jub. 16.25; 29), a prohibition unknown to either
Scripture or Talmud.
Recognizing the psychological necessity of a festival
marked by libations of water, and yet desiring to please the
Proto-Sadducees through abolition of these rituals on Suk-
kot, the author (as already noted) prescribed them for
Passover (Jub. 49.22). Perhaps he felt this change was
essential. The early Hasideans had called Sukkot “the sea-
son of our joy,” insisting that its most significant rite was
that of the popular celebrations. The author agreed with
CXll
INTRODUCTORY NOTE TO THIRD EDITION
his fellow-priests of higher rank that on Sukkot these cele-
brations could well detract from the importance and pop-
ularity of the rituals associated with the Day of Atonement.
On the other hand, the author seems to approve the
Proto-Hillelite and Hillelite view that private whole-burnt
offerings might be sacrificed on the festival days (Jub.
16.22; cf. Mishna Hagigah 2.3).
d. The Day of Atonement
The Book of Jubilees — conscious of the pagan rites of the
peasants — declared the Day of Atonement one of sorrow
(Jub. 34.19), opposing the Hasidean concept of the occasion
as one of solemn joy, when despite the fast (see below, pp.
54 ff. and 704 ff.) vineyard dances by the young men and
women were not only condoned but encouraged. Like some
Rabbinic Sages, the author considered the goat offered on
the Day of Atonement a sacrifice of propitiation for the
sale of Joseph into slavery. (His brothers had dipped his
garment in the blood of a goat, and brought it to Jacob, as
evidence that Joseph had met a violent death [Jub. 34.18;
cf. Sifra, Miluim, Shemini, beg.].)
The Talmud hinted that at one time (as remarked on
pp. 704 ff.) the Hasideans were gravely concerned because,
intended in a measure to replace the popular pagan festivi-
ties usual on the tenth of Tishri, the Sukkot celebrations
were accompanied by sexual frivolities. (Perhaps, indeed,
this was one of the reasons for Proto-Sadducean condemna-
tion of these ceremonies.) “Originally,” records a baraita
(Tosefta Sukkah 4.1, p. 198, ed. Lieberman, II, p. 272; cf.
Tosefta Ki-Fshutah, ad. loc.), “when witnessing the celebra-
tions of the water-libations, the men would be within, and
the women without.” That is to say, after the Court of
INTRODUCTORY NOTE TO THIRD EDITION
CXlll
Israelites had been filled to capacity, crowds still gathered
in the Court of Women, which would therefore be filled by
men and women — the men nearer the Court of Israel, the
women behind them. “When the Court noticed that this
arrangement led to improprieties, it built three porches
about the Court of Women, one on each of the three sides
of the Court [but none on the fourth side, which led to the
Court of Israelites]. In this way, the women could watch
the ritual of the libations [from these porches, to which
alone they were admitted during the ceremonies] and the
sexes were not mingled.”
The curious relation of the Sukkot festivities required by
the Hasideans and used in their liturgy to describe the
holiday, to those popular among the peasantry on the tenth
of Tishri, the retention of the festivities in the Book of
Jubilees although the author rejected the concept of Sukkot
as a time of judgment for rain, the remarkable talmudic
suggestion (just quoted) that these festivities sometimes led
to undesirable incidents in the Temple, all indicate that the
ceremony of the water-libations, the celebrations with the
burning faggots, and the procession with the willows did
not originate in the concept that Sukkot was a period of
judgment for rain: on the contrary, the concept was devel-
oped to add an air of solemnity to the festivities. The rites
were apparently of very primitive origin, so primitive that
they survived although not mentioned in the Pentateuch —
and this despite the opposition of the priesthood, both during
the First and Second Commonwealths.
Far from inventing these rites the Hasideans simply ac-
cepted them as useful in giving the community at large
opportunity for direct participation in a Temple ritual — an
CXIV
INTRODUCTORY NOTE TO THIRD EDITION
aspect of the ceremonies especially distasteful to the priests.
To prevent the celebrations from getting out of hand, the
Hasideans associated them with the solemn consideration
that during the festival period the world was being judged
with regard to rain. This book indicates (p. 704) that it is
unlikely this association first developed during the Second
Commonwealth. Instead the Talmud suggested it was made
by the Prophets themselves.
e. The Jubilaic Author’s Attitude to the Temple
It is not clear whether the author approved the existence
of a Temple structure like that reared by Solomon. In many
passages (cf. Jub. 49.18) he spoke of the Temple as a “tab-
ernacle,” but that may be an archaism, based on the word
of Scripture. On the other hand, this peasant priest may
well have deplored substitution for the simple wilderness
tabernacle of the imposing structures built by Solomon,
later by the returning Exiles, and finally made most im-
pressive under Herod.
f. The Tithes
According to the Jubilaic author (13.26; 13.9), tithes were
to be given the priests (and not the Levites), a view shared
by the priestly tradition handed down in the Talmud and
opposed by the Hillelites (cf. Akiba, p. 83). The Second
Tithe (an expression found in the Talmud but already
known to the Jubilaic author) could not therefore be in-
tended for the priests in accordance with Numbers 18.26 fiF.
The Book of Jubilees prescribed that the Second Tithe was,
like sacrificial meat, to be eaten in the Tabernacle precincts
(Jub. 32.10). The Book added that the tithes of each year
INTRODUCTORY NOTE TO THIRD EDITION
cxv
had to be consumed before its close, lest they be polluted as
were sacrificial meats kept beyond their prescribed time
(Jub. 32.11, and cf. Lev. 7.16 and 19.8).
g. The Jubilaic Author’s Concept of Man’s Immortality
The author undertook to end the ancient theological con-
troversy regarding the Resurrection of the Dead, through
the assertion that there would be a resurrection of the
spirits but not of the bodies (Jub. 23.31). Lest this doctrine
prove offensive to the Proto-Sadducees because it suggested
the doctrine of Immortality of the Soul, the author insisted
that the spirits would be revivified at the end of days (loc.
cit.). However, according to the Book of Jubilees, it would
seem that this Resurrection of the spirits was limited to
those of Jews. The author opposed the Hasidean view that
the pious of all peoples would achieve immortality. (This
Hasidean view is preserved in Mishna Sanhedrin 10.2,
where Balaam is denied participation in the future life,
suggesting that other righteous Gentiles would share in it.
The tradition survived among the Hillelites and was ex-
pressed by R. Joshua, but opposed by R. Eliezer. Cf. B.
Sanhedrin 104a, and my discussion of the subject in Mabo
le-massektot Ahot ne-Abot d’ Rabbi Natan, p. 223.)
h. The Jubilaic Author’s Concept of the Talio
Opposing the Hasidean tendency toward leniency in pun-
ishment, and especially its refusal to inflict the talio, the
author maintained that punishment should be measure for
measure (Jub. 4.32).
i. The Law of the Jubilee Year
Perhaps the most instructive doctrine of the book was
CXVl
INTRODUCTORY NOTE TO THIRD EDITION
that from which derived its usual name. The author (al-
ready observed above, Section 4) maintained that the law
of the Jubilee applied in the Second Commonwealth, holding
with the Hasideans it had applied also in the First. Failure
to observe the law had brought calamity on the nation, and
would do so again.
Under Jubilaic law no priest could own land, but during
the Second Commonwealth priests were among the chief
landowners. Presumably, therefore, unlike the high-priestly
families, the priest who composed this work was himself
landless and appealed to the landless.
No wonder that this book was deemed sacred by certain
segments of the population who, obeying and expanding its
commands, developed the sect of the Essenes and those of
the Qumram group (perhaps identical with the Essenes).
To them the need for a Messiah, sprung both from the seed
of Aaron and from the seed of David, was urgent. They
could not believe that a scion of the reigning High Priest
would ever accede to their own revolutionary ideas. Only
the miraculous intervention of God in human affairs, and
more especially in those of Israel, could effect fulfillment of
the Torah in their time.
But the Torah to be established in Messianic days and
to be approached in this world differed from the Pentateuch.
What the Hasideans and the Pharisees had done to the civil
and criminal law of the Torah, and the High Priests to
ritual, these socially depressed priests and laymen did to
other sections of the Pentateuch. It is inconceivable that
Jews like the Essenes or those of the Qumram Sect or the
writer of the Book of Jubilees would dare flout the very word
of Scripture, had they not consciously imitated recognized
Temple authorities in their approach to matters of ritual,
INTRODUCTORY NOTE TO THIRD EDITION CXVll
and in a sense the approach of Pharisaic judges to the civil
and criminal law.
For the priestly deviationists who altered the ritual, the
Written Law was merely a series of recommendations, to be
“adjusted” to social need. The author of the Book of Jubi-
lees could find support for his views in the fact that the
Hasideans, themselves loyal to the word of Scripture, gen-
erally did not undertake to impose their tradition on the
Temple ritual, where the High Priest reigned supreme.
The author of the Book of Jubilees and the sect based on
his teachings by the unknown “Teacher of Righteousness”
concluded from the observation of both Sadducean practice
and Pharisaic acquiescence in it (so far as the Temple was
concerned) that “the needs of the hour” could supersede the
commandments themselves.
Because (as already noted above) no one owning land
could consider himself obedient to the Jubilaic law as under-
stood in the Book of Jubilees; because the solar calendar
deprived the Temple high-priesthood of a most cherished
prerogative, namely, the determination of the calendar; be-
cause the author considered all priests equal, as descendants
of the first priest, Levi; because the author nowhere men-
tioned the High Priest to be clothed with special authority
or privilege, we may rightly assume that the Jubilaic writer
belonged, or at least sympathized with, the landless priests;
and that the Sect founded upon his teachings drew its sup-
port from the landless masses.
Essentially provincials (but unlike the Proto-Sadducees,
poor and landless), they were fiercely nationalistic, con-
temptuous of the Gentile world, inclined toward severity
in punishment, convinced that success depended not on
effort but on predestined fate, and detesting of the constant
CXviii INTRODUCTORY NOTE TO THIRD EDITION
violation of the Law by the high-priesthood of their time
(the later Hellenistic period). Unable to persuade the rest
of Jewry that the law of the Jubilee still applied to the farm
country, many in the sects withdrew from the general com-
munity, preferring to live in their own communes, usually
in the wilderness near Jericho, and conducting their lives as
they saw fit. Others, Josephus recorded, lived in the cities
of Judea, but apparently everywhere as landless workers
and artisans.
These sects opposed Hasideanism partly because they
could not admit the authority of the lay scholar vis d vis
the Temple and rejected some of the Hasidean tradition,
but mostly because Hasidean stress on intellectual achieve-
ment alienated them. What this group needed was a short
cut to Salvation. The high value placed by the Hasideans
on constant study, the Hasidean belief that the Temple
High Priests had full authority over Temple ritual, Hasidean
unwillingness to demand reapportionment of the land on the
principles implied in Leviticus 25.1 ff., Hasidean insistence
that observance of the faith was compatible with life among
a people who were largely unobservant, drove the sects to
seek their salvation elsewhere. Fortunately for them (they
thought) there were, going back to Moses himself but un-
known to either Hasideans or Proto-Sadducees, documents
such as the Book of Jubilees which set down rules precisely
fitted to the needs of these sects. They looked forward to
bliss in another world, a world in which the Jewish people
would be dominant and which would be essentially spiritual
rather than physical.
Adoption of the solar calendar forced the author of the
Book of Jubilees also to accept the doctrine of personal
angels. The festivals had to be cosmic, to negate preroga-
INTRODUCTORY NOTE TO THIRD EDITION
CXIX
tive of earthly authorities to determine the proper dates.
For the festivals to be cosmic, the whole Law had to share
that characteristic, and from this concept followed the idea
of good and rebellious angels or those who obeyed the Law
and those who violated it.
The future Resurrection being limited to spirits (Jub.
22.30), the sinful were condemned to eternal torment just
as the spirits of the righteous were to enjoy eternal bliss.
Mere denial of a share in the future world (which the Hil-
lelites and originally all Hasideans, conceived to be the
portion of everyone) could scarcely be a penalty for those
who believed in neither immortality nor the Resurrection,
but enjoyed mundane prosperity.
As Professor Lieberman was the first to point out, the
Talmud refers to the Qumram Sect four times. (See Pro-
ceedings of the American Academy for Jewish Research^ XX,
pp. 395 flF.) Each time their ritual was declared “a devia-
tionist way.” They were not considered apostates, because
in early Hasideanism even Sadducism was not equated with
apostasy. Both Sadducism and Essenism were deviationist,
in that their followers disregarded the Torah, as studied,
taught, and understood by Hasideanism and Pharisaism.
(For further discussions of the issues raised in this section,
see my article on the halakah of the Book of Jubilees in
Harvard Theological Review, 1923; and Ch. Albeck, Das
Buch d. Jubilden und die Halacha.)
8. The Description of the Pharisees by Josephus
The discussion in this Note, in the text and in the Supple-
ment, demonstrates the accuracy of Josephus’ description
of the Pharisees and the Sadducees. No matter how inaccu-
cxx
INTRODUCTORY NOTE TO THIRD EDITION
rate otherwise or how frequently he may have sacrificed
precision to apologetics, his picture of the dominant groups
in contemporary Judaism corresponds to fact. He knew all
three groups — the Sadducees, the Pharisees, and the Essenes
— intimately and had no difficulty in explaining them.
In WaVy I, 5.2, speaking of Queen Salome, Josephus as-
serted that “Beside Alexandra, and growing as she grew,
arose the Pharisees, a body of Jews with the reputation of
excelling the rest of the nation in the observances of re-
ligion, and as exact exponents of the laws.”
This description of the Pharisees as the most pious of all
the groups and as precise interpreters of the laws, should
itself suffice to refute the current theory that they changed
the Law whether through legislation or nterpretation.
Josephus’ account corresponds rather to that given in the
Supplement to this book, in which analysis of the Pharisaic-
Sadducean controversies shows that the Pharisaic ritual
loyally adhered to the text of Scripture, but the Sadducean
views originated among deviationists. Josephus further
demonstrated the truth of the talmudic assertion (see pp.
637 flf.) that even many Sadducees of later times, and cer-
tainly the ‘am ha-arez, no matter what their practices, took
for granted the Pharisees’ superior learning and under-
standing of the Law.
Elaborating on his theme, Josephus asserted {War, II,
8.14) that the Pharisees
“are considered the most accurate interpreters of the
laws, and hold the position of the leading sect, attribute
everything to fate and to God; they hold that to act
rightly or otherwise rests, indeed, for the most part with
men, but that in each action, Fate co-operates. Every
INTRODUCTORY NOTE TO THIRD EDITION
CXXl
soul, they maintain, is imperishable, but the soul of the
good alone passes into another body, while the souls of
the wicked suffer eternal punishment.”
The Supplement (pp. 768 f.) shows that the Pharisees
with their eye on the future world disregarded success and
comforts on earth, and in these respects differed from the
Sadducees. The word “fate” in this passage is used with
precision and (as is indicated, e.g., in B. Ta'anit 25a) means
that material fortune in this world often depends on circum-
stances unrelated to effort or piety. However, Josephus did
not forget the Pharisaic teaching that there is also Divine
reward for good deeds in this world and he therefore added
the words “and to God.”
While the Pharisees agreed that moral decisions are in
general made by man, they prayed that God might turn
him to righteousness and repentance. Thus they recognized
that virtuous habits, once established, facilitate the pursuit
of virtue. “He who seeks to purify himself will be assisted
in his efforts to do so” (B. Shabbat 104a). They also held
that such accidental factors as good neighbors, good environ-
ment, and good parentage may affect the ability to achieve
and act on moral judgment (Mishna Abot 2.9).
Josephus, himself a priest, usually adopted the Sham-
maitic interpretation of the Law (cf., e.g., his views on the
talio. Antiquities, IV, 8.35). He also followed Shammaitic
theology. According to the Shammaites, man’s soul was in-
destructible. After death, its condition was that of the
shades — rephaim — mentioned in Scripture.
In the Day of Judgment, there would be three groups,
the Shammaites held (according to Abot of R. 'Nathan, I,
ch. 41, 67a). The righteous would be resurrected to eternal
CXXll INTRODUCTORY NOTE TO THIRD EDITION
bliss. The wicked would be condemned to eternal torment.
The intermediate group would descend into Gehenna, to be
scorched by its fires and, thus purified, join the righteous
(The School of Hillel disagreed with these views. They
considered the soul destructible [cf. Sifre Num. 112, p. 120]
and held that many of the wicked would neither be resur-
rected nor judged [see Tosefta Sanhedrin 13.7 IF., p. 435;
Abot of R. Nathan, I, ch. 36, 53b £F.]; and that the intermedi-
ate groups comprising the vast majority of men would be
forgiven. Hence, the Hillelites foresaw no eternal torment
or punishment for anyone in the future world. R. Akiba
offered a compromise. He held that punishment of the
wicked in Gehenna would last for twelve months. Other
sages suggest shorter periods [Mishna ‘Eduyyot 2.10].)
The reference to the “other body” in Josephus was unre-
lated to the doctrine of transmigration. Josephus explained
that the resurrection was one of the spirit, which would live
a physical life in the eschatological future, in a second body.
The body inhabited in the present world would have de-
cayed, or burned, or otherwise been destroyed.
Josephus continued:
“The Sadducees, the second of the orders, do away with
Fate altogether, and remove God beyond, not merely the
commission but the very sight of, evil. They maintain
that man has the free choice of good or evil, and that it
rests with each man’s will whether he follows the one or
the other. As for the persistence of the soul after death,
penalties in the underworld, and rewards, they will have
none of them.”
Thus the Sadducees maintained that man’s fate is en-
INTRODUCTORY NOTE TO THIRD EDITION CXXID
tirely in his own hands; they denied that in moral decisions
God ever leads a man into transgression, even through habit;
and of course they denied the eschatological future.
The discussion in the Supplement (p. 748) shows how
indispensable to the Sadducean theory of education were
these beliefs, and how they corresponded to the record ol
the differences between the groups, in Abot of R. Nathan^ I.
chapter 5, 13b.
“The Pharisees,” Josephus added, “are affectionate tc
each other, and cultivate harmonious relations with the
community. The Sadducees, on the contrary, are ever
among themselves rather boorish in their behavior, and ir
their intercourse with their peers are as rude as to aliens.’
The precision of these remarks is demonstrated below (pp
82 ff.).
However, Josephus may have been referring to anothei
aspect of Pharisaism — the mutual respect of its opposing
schools, discussed on pp. 631 ff. We must remember that
the various talmudic stories which told about the brusque
ness of such teachers as Shammai and. R. Eiiezer all ema-
nated from their opponents. After all, Shammai did warr
his disciples to receive all men graciously; while R. Eliezer’i
favorite maxim included an admonition to regard the honoi
due one’s colleague as one’s own. The Shammaites consid-
ered school discipline to require severity toward pupih
{Abot of R. Nathan, I, ch. 6, 14a); but that view did noi
interfere with the concept shared with other Pharisees thai
in human intercourse gentleness and courtesy were enjoinec
in the Torah itself. Perhaps in the contrast Josephus drev
between Pharisaic courtesy and Sadducean brusqueness, h<
had in mind another consideration. The relation of th(
Sadducees to the Boethusians (who shared their theology
CXXiv INTRODUCTORY NOTE TO THIRD EDITION
and practice) was one of bitter hostility, worlds apart from
the friendship marking the relations of Shammaites and
Hillelites.
In Antiquities^ XIII, 5.9, Josephus, in addition, explained
that the Pharisees
“say that certain events are the work of Fate, but not all;
as to other events, it depends on ourselves, whether they
shall take place or not. . . . But the Sadducees do away
with Fate, holding that there is no such thing and that
human actions are not achieved in accordance with her
decree, but that all things lie within our power, so that
we ourselves are responsible for our well-being, while we
suffer misfortune through our thoughtlessness.”
These attitudes correspond to those quoted above from the
War. Here Josephus merely added that the actions, for
which men are responsible and which are associated with
moral decisions, sometimes affect men’s condition in this
world, through the will of God.
The description in Antiquities^ XIII, 10.5, of the Pharisaic
influence on the community, enabling them effectively to
criticize king or high priest, corresponds to the implications
of Mishna Yoma 1.5. Josephus’ assertion in the same con-
text, XIII, 10.6, that the Pharisees tended toward leniency
in punishment is also confirmed by other evidence (see be-
low, pp. 720 ff.).
Proceeding further, Josephus noted that
“the Pharisees had passed on to the people certain regu-
lations handed down by former generations and not re-
INTRODUCTORY NOTE TO THIRD EDITION
CXXV
corded in the Law of Moses, for which reason they are
rejected by the Sadducean group, who hold that only
those regulations should be considered valid which were
written down [i.e., in Scripture] and that those handed down
by the fathers need not be observed. And concerning these
matters, the two parties came to have controversies and
serious differences, the Sadducees having the confidence
of the wealthy alone but no following among the populace,
while the Pharisees have the support of the masses.”
We have already suggested that this remark indicates
clearly that the “regulations handed down by former gen-
erations,” i.e., the Oral Law, consisted not of a series of
lenient interpretations but of specifications and amplifica-
tions of the general statements of the Bible, as well as
extrapolations of the commandments to situations not cov-
ered by the written word. All these the Sadducees rejected,
and indeed their forebears had rejected parts of the Written
Law itself.
It is generally agreed that the references to the Pharisees
in Antiquities, XVII, 2.4 were taken by Josephus or his
secretaries from a hostile source. At least their tone is in-
consistent with Josephus’ general attitude toward Phari-
saism. Nevertheless, the specific assertions in this passage
confirm the evidence already presented regarding the nature
of Pharisaism. Josephus writes:
“For there was a certain sect of men that were Jews,
who valued themselves highly upon the exact skill they
had in the law of their fathers, and made men believe
they were much favored by God. . . . These were they
that are called the sect of the Pharisees, who were in a
CXXvi INTRODUCTORY NOTE TO THIRD EDITION
capacity of greatly opposing kings. A cunning sect they
were, and soon elevated to a pitch of open fighting and
doing mischief. Accordingly when all the people of the
Jews gave assurance of their good-will to Caesar, and to
the king’s [i.e., Herod’s] government, these very men did
not swear, being above six thousand; and when the king
[Herod] imposed a fine upon them, Pheroras’ wife paid the
fine for them. In order to requite which kindness of hers,
since they were believed to have the foreknowledge of
things to come by Divine inspiration, they foretold how
God had decreed that Herod’s government should cease,
and his posterity be deprived of it; but that the kingdom
should come to her and Pheroras, and to their children.
These predictions were not concealed from Salome [the
sister of Herod] but were told the king, as also how they
perverted some persons about the palace itself. So the
king slew such of the Pharisees as were principally ac-
cused. . . . He slew also all those of his own family who
had consented to what the Pharisees foretold.”
Once more, Josephus stressed the accuracy of the Phari-
saic interpretation of the Law (in this passage, described as
merely a claim on their part). Once more, too, we are told
of their widespread influence, enabling Pharisees to defy a
king. Apparently the writer held that they could be goaded
into open fighting when resisted, but generally sought to
attain their objectives through indirection.
The Pharisees could not recognize the kingship of Herod.
He was one of the Idumeans, permitted to remain in their
native land after subjugation by Hyrkan on condition they
adopt Judaism as their faith. From the viewpoint of Phari-
saic law, such forced conversion was no conversion, because
INTRODUCTORY NOTE TO THIRD EDITION CXXVll
it did not include the indispensable element of voluntary
acceptance of “the commandments” (B. Yebamot 47a f.).
Therefore, Herod was not really an Israelite, and could not
under the provision of Deuteronomy 17.15 become king.
Not surprisingly, the Pharisees were unwilling to swear
allegiance to him.
The number of Pharisees doubtless was far greater than
six thousand. The historian merely remarked that six thou-
sand risked their lives in resistance to the oath of allegiance.
Whether refusal to acknowledge the king justified martyr-
dom, may have been considered a debatable question among
the contemporary Pharisees. At first Herod let them ofi^
with a fine paid for them by his sister-in-law, but in the end
he slaughtered their leaders. In its essentials this story of
Josephus was confirmed by the talmudic tradition (B. Baba
Batra 3 b).
Josephus’ suggestion that the Pharisees had, or claimed
to have, supernatural sight into the future, seems to come
from a misunderstanding of their position. The Pharisees
were certain that, violating the express command of the
Torah, Herod’s kingship would not endure, and that no
child of his would inherit the throne. Such an assertion
required no gift of prophecy. On the other hand, they may
have assured Pheroras’ wife that, because she was volun-
tarily an observant Jewess, her children might be eligible to
the throne.
Finally, Josephus in Antiquities, XVIII, 1.2, returned to
further analysis of Pharisaism and Sadducism:
“Now, as for the Pharisees, they live meanly, and
despise delicacies in life; and they follow the conduct of
reason; and what that prescribes to them as good for them.
CXXVlll INTRODUCTORY NOTE TO THIRD EDITION
they do; and they think they ought earnestly to strive to
observe reason’s dictates for practice. They also pay re-
spect to such as are in years; nor are they so bold as to
contradict them in anything, which they have introduced;
and while they hold that all things are done by fate, they
do not take away the freedom from men of acting as they
think fit; since their notion is, that it has pleased God to
make a temperament whereby what He wills is done, but
so that the will of men can act virtuously or viciously.
They also believe that the souls have an immortal vigor
in them, and that under the earth there will be rewards
or punishments, according as they have lived virtuously
or viciously in this life; and the latter are to be detained
in an everlasting prison, but that the former shall have
the power to revive and live again; on account of which
doctrines, they are able greatly to persuade the body of
the people; and whatsoever they do about Divine worship,
prayers, and sacrifices, they perform them according to
their direction; insomuch that the cities gave great attes-
tation to them on account of their entire virtuous conduct,
both in the actions of their lives, and their discourses also.
“But the doctrine of the Sadducees is thus; That souls
die with the bodies; nor do they regard the observance of
anything besides what the [Written] Law enjoins; for they
think it a virtue to dispute with those teachers of philoso-
phy whom they frequent; but this doctrine is received but
by a few, yet by those of the greatest dignity; but they
are able to do almost nothing of themselves; for when
they become magistrates, as they are unwillingly and by
force sometimes obliged to do, they addict themselves to
the notions of the Pharisees, because the multitude would
not otherwise bear them.”
INTRODUCTORY NOTE TO THIRD EDITION CXXIX
Once more a study of Pharisaic law and theology demon-
strates that Josephus was not adapting the facts to the
understanding of his Greek readers, but recording his ob-
servations. The preference of the Pharisees for “mean”
living, that is, their contempt for luxury, was confirmed in
Abot of R. Nathan, I (ch. 5, 13b) in a taunt quoted from the
Sadducees. The assertion that the Pharisees “follow the
conduct of reason,” trying to discover its dictates, referred
to their insistent study of the Torah. The Talmud was in
essence an effort to apply “reason” to life, both in the inter-
pretation of Scripture and where Scripture was silent on
application of its basic principles. Granted the view that
the Scriptures are the revealed word of God, and that man’s
life derives meaning from his service to God, the Pharisee’s
way of life was a Life of Reason.
The first of the petitions in his daily prayers was for
“wisdom” and perception. However, the wisdom and per-
ception were not to be artfulness or craft in search for the
false goods of mundane life; but means to achieve the real,
everlasting good of the eternal life with God.
The assertion that the Pharisees did not contradict their
elders, applied even more emphatically to the Shammaites
(whom we have already remarked Josephus regularly fol-
lowed) than to the Hillelites. This seems obvious from Abot
of R. Nathan, I (ch. 6, 14a) where the proper relation of
disciple to teacher was explained in detail, and was ascribed
to Jose b. Joezer, the first of the Proto-Shammaites.
The doctrine that man has a certain freedom of action,
but that this does not interfere with Divine development of
the world process is (as often remarked) identical with the
positions articulated by R. Akiba (Mishna Abot 3.15).
We have seen that Josephus ascribed to all the Pharisees
cxxx
INTRODUCTORY NOTE TO THIRD EDITION
doctrines he knew only from his earlier Shammaitic connec-
tions, and this was the case with his explanation that the
sinful are subjected to everlasting torment in the future
world, whereas the Resurrection is limited to the righteous.
Control of all Jewish religion by the Pharisees in the final
generations of the Second Commonwealth was attested by
the talmudic record (cf. Mishna Yoma 1.5, et al.). How-
ever, we have noted that the Temple ritual was conducted
by Shammaitic rather than Hillelite principles, and that the
Shammaitic principles themselves in some instances derived
from priestly traditions to which the Sadducees had taken
no exception and which indeed had been promulgated by
Proto-Sadducees (see below, pp. 736 fF.).
The declaration that the “virtuous conduct” of the
Pharisees was recognized by almost the whole community
can only mean that in addition to their punctilious observ-
ance of the ritual the Pharisees translated the principles of
the Torah into ethical norms and principles which won
widespread approbation.
The description of the Sadducees in this passage by
Josephus contained, beyond that found elsewhere in his
works, only the reference to their disputations with the
teachers of philosophy. By this phrase, Josephus seemingly
meant the frequent arguments between contemporary Sad-
ducees and the Pharisaic teachers in the final days of the
Second Commonwealth. Some of these discussions have
been preserved in the stories of their encounters with Rab-
ban Johanan b. Zakkai (cf., e.g., Tosefta Parah 3 (2). 8, p.
631).
Having restated with some elaboration his concept of the
opposing groups, Josephus suddenly added a fourth “sect” of
Jewish “philosophers,” namely, the Zealots and their pred-
INTRODUCTORY NOTE TO THIRD EDITION CXXXl
ecessors in the later days of Herod. According to Josephus,
this fourth sect faithfully followed the Pharisaic norms and
rules of life. But unlike the Pharisees, this group had “an
inviolable attachment to liberty; and say that God is to be
their only Ruler and Lord. They also do not value dying
any kinds of death, nor indeed do they heed the deaths of
their relations and friends, nor can any such fear make them
call any man, lord.”
Josephus, pointedly identifying this “fourth philosophy”
with the leaders of the final Rebellion of 66-70, sought to
dissociate their movement from Pharisaism. The historian,
aware in Rome of the edicts against the practice of Judaism,
was impelled to distinguish from the rebels the main body
of observant Jews. Perhaps he added the paragraph in
question on request by the Jewish Commission, consisting of
Rabban Gamaliel II, R. Joshua, R. Akiba, and R. Eleazar b.
Azariah (see Akiba, p. 136). These scholars visited Rome
and wished to impress on the Imperial government the dis-
tinction between Pharisaic practice of their faith and the
warlike nationalism which had led to the rebellion against
Rome. Loyalty to the Kingdom of God proclaimed each
morning and night in the Shema and on occasion in other
practices; inability to join in the deification of the Em-
perors; the rite of circumcision; the observance of the
Passover; the carrying of lulab on Sukkot all could be inter-
preted as anti-Roman, but were not so in fact. They were
merely expressions of the Jews’ loyalty to the religion of
their fathers which — above all — directed the use of reason
in relations with fellow men.
Josephus may well have believed that it would help this
important cause, vital for the survival of Judaism, to de-
scribe the Zealots and their predecessors under Herod as a
CXXxii INTRODUCTORY NOTE TO THIRD EDITION
“fourth sect,” different from the Pharisees although, to be
sure, agreeing with them in religious practice and beliefs.
The importance of this distinction became only too ob-
vious as the Roman pressure on the Jews to abandon their
faith increased, and ultimately led to the Rebellion of Bar
Kokeba.
The description of the Pharisees in Josephus thus agreed
fully with the implications of the talmudic writings. From
both works the Pharisees emerge as a group which, accepting
the Torah as the word of God and considering existence
meaningful only so far as it provided opportunity for service
to Him, adhered loyally to the rituals enjoined in Scripture.
The Pharisees followed a series of norms in which the word
of Scripture was elaborated. They studied the word of the
Torah and indulged in continuous contemplation of the
right, in an insistent search for the ethical life. They pos-
sessed a wide reputation for piety, tolerance, wisdom. This
reputation clothed the Pharisees with enormous power used
with remarkable self-restraint. They were loathe to impose
punishment for crime, and when compelled by evidence to
do so inclined toward leniency. They treated one another
with great affection, and were generally mild and temperate
to opponents. They despised present luxury, and sought
instead to deserve future bliss. They realistically appraised
the paradox of man’s consciousness of freedom and of cir-
cumstances beyond his control, such as heredity and educa-
tion, weighting his decisions. For generation after genera-
tion, this remarkable group — disciples of the Prophets —
labored, studied, and taught in Jerusalem, to such effect
that even Josephus (who had deserted their way of life) was
stirred by profound admiration for the Pharisees and their
achievements.
INTRODUCTORY NOTE TO THIRD EDITION CXXXlll
The material in the Introductory Note is essential, yet its
inclusion meant considerable delay in publication. Never-
theless the new edition does not begin to discuss many
issues which may be considered pertinent. So far as I can
see these do not bear on the main theses of the book al-
though they would be of interest. The additions might in-
clude analysis of the Hasidean liturgy and its development,
showing the light it sheds on the theology and origin of
Hasideanism, the relation of town and country in ancient
Judea at various stages in its history, and the reconstruction
of the judicial system of the Second Commonwealth before
and after the Maccabean Rebellion.
In citing classical works, I have wherever possible, used
standard translations, instead of replacing them with the
originals which might be open to question. Thus for the
Hebrew Scriptures I have used the Jewish Publication So-
ciety version. When available in the Loeb Classics Series
I have in general used its translations. For the writings of
Josephus not yet in the Loeb series I have used Whiston’s
translation where that did not seem manifestly impossible.
My discussion of the material from the Qumram literature
is limited to that indispensable to the present argument, but
scarcely attempts to exhaust all the implications for the
history of Pharisaism.
Finally, while this book was in press there appeared
Professor Saul Lieberman’s historic contribution to talmudic
studies: his Tosefta Ki-Fshutah on Mo‘ed, of which many
passages deal with issues raised in The Pharisees. I have
taken note of some through corrections in proof. But through
restrictions of time and space I was unable to do so with
others. Thus the chapter on “The Customs of the Men of
Jericho” is profoundly affected by his discussion of the
CXXxiv INTRODUCTORY NOTE TO THIRD EDITION
sources in his commentary on Tosefta Pisha, chapter 3.19,
ed. Lieberman, pp. 156 fF., and should be rewritten. In the
course of proofreading itself literally hundreds of talmudic
passages, hitherto enigmas to me seemed to become clear,
and I would have liked to share these new insights with the
reader. But to this process there is no end.
Rediscovery of the underlying principles of Hasideanism
and its motivations is a difficult task and will require the
labors of many scholars and students. I part from this book
with the hope that it may prove a step in the right direction,
bringing light to contemporary problems, and stimulating
the pursuit of knowledge and wisdom in the unique treasury
of Hasidean and Rabbinic thought.
Fifteenth of Ab^ 5762
August 15^ 1962
CHRONOLOGICAL TABLE
(of chief persons and events discussed in the book)
Prophets
PRE-EXILIC PERIOD
Date
ca. 995-985
ca. 985-955
ca. 955-930
931-914
931-911
912-872
886-875
875-852
843-821
843-804
805-790
804-776
790-749
734-734
733- 722
734- 715
715-697
697-643
640-610
609
609-598
598
598-587
Kings
Saul
David
Solomon
Rehoboam
* Jeroboam
Asa
*Omri
*Ahab
*Jehu
Jehoash
*Jehoash
Amaziah
*Jeroboam II
Jotham
*Hoshea
Ahaz
Hezekiah
Manasseh
Josiah
Jehoahaz
Jehoiakim
Jehoiachin
Zedekiah
Elijah
Elisha
Hosea, Amos
Isaiah
Nahum
Zepahaniah
Jeremiah
Ezekiel
Events
Syro-Ephraimitic War
Fall of Samaria, and end
of Northern Kingdom
Invasion of Sennacherib
Restoration of the Law-
Invasion of Necho
First Babylonian Depor-
tation
*Asterisk indicates Kings of Israel only . . . For the dates for the pre-
Exilic period, I have adopted all those given by Mowinckel in Die Chron-
ologie der Israelitischen und juedischen Koenigen {Acta Orientaliay X
(1932), p. 271), For the later period I follow the chronology used in
Margolis, M. L. and Marx, A., History of the Jewish People^ Philadelphia,
1927.
cxxxv
CXXXVl
CHRONOLOGICAL TABLE
Date
562
539
538
520
515
458
457
445
433
411
334
331
. 323
ca. 250
198
175
Kings Prophets Events
EXILIC AND POST-EXILIC PERIODS
Haggai
Zechariah
Death of Nebuchadnez-
zar and accession of
Evil Merodach
Conquest of Babylonia
by Cyrus
First Restoration under
Sheshbazzar
Zerubabel
Completion of the Sec-
ond Temple
Return under Ezra
Mixed Marriages dis-
solved
Appointment of Nehe-
miah as Governor of
Judea
Recall of Nehemiah to
Persia
Destruction of Jewish
colony at Elephantine,
Egypt
Alexander the Great
crosses the Hellespont
Alexander passes through
Palestine
Alexander dies
Simeon II, the Right-
eous, High Priest
Victory of Antiochus
III over Ptolemy at
Raphia; Palestine
passes into the power
of the Seleucids
Antiochus IV succeeds
to Seleucid Throne
CHRONOLOGICAL TABLE
CXXXVll
Date
Events
168
165
152
142
135
103
76
63
49
39
ca. 30
Antiochus IV reduces
Jerusalem; forbids
practice of Judaism.
Revolt of the Macca-
bees.
Rededication of the
Temple
Jonathan, High Priest
Jonathan slain, Simeon
becomes High Priest
Johanan Hyrcanus suc-
ceeds Simeon
Alexander Jannaeus be-
comes High Priest
Salome Alexandra, Queen
of Judea.
Pompey enters Jeru-
salem
Break between Caesar
and Pompey
Herod made King of
Judea
Hillel and Shammai
AFTER THE CHRISTIAN ERA
37
Caligula, Emperor of
Rome
41
Claudius, Emperor of
Rome
Agrippa I, King of Judea
SO
Agrippa II
54
Nero, Emperor of Rome
66
Rebellion against Rome
69
Vespasian, Emperor of
Rome
70
Destruction of Jerusa-
lem, and burning of
the Temple
G filial
THE PHARISEES
The Sociological Background of Their Faith
1. INTRODUCTION
This book is an attempt to present a comprehensive sur-
vey of the economic, social, and political factors which
helped to determine the course of Jewish thought in the
biblical and post-biblical periods. The method used is a
commonplace of modern historical scholarship; it is only its
special application which may seem to give it novelty or
daring. Indeed, the groundwork for this study has already
been laid in the brilliant investigations of a do 2 en eminent
scholars.' Magnificent, however, as their contributions are,
they remain inadequate, because it is impossible to under-
stand any segment of Palestinian history thoroughly without
reference to the whole. The underlying conditions of the
country remained so nearly the same from generation to
generation that the conflicts of the pre-Hebraic inhabitants
are illumined by a correct understanding of Bible and Tal-
mud; while, on the other hand, whole chapters of the Mishna
can be interpreted properly only in the light of archaeolog-
ical records fifteen centuries older than they.
Only when it is examined in the light of this reconstruc-
tion, does the prophetic and rabbinic literature become
fully significant and intelligible. Follower of YHWH and
worshiper of Baal, true prophet and false prophet, Hasid
and Hellenist, Pharisee and Sadducee, Hillelite and Sham-
maite,* disciple of R. Joshua ben Hananya and of R. Eliezer
ben Hyrcanus, of R. Akiba and R. Ishmael, of R. Judah
ben Ilai and R. Simeon ben Yohai, of R. Jose and R. Meir
— an apparent welter of names, of futile arguments, of
obscure and occasionally even trivial hostilities — becomes
1
2
THE PHARISEES
an interpreted and ordered struggle, prolonged through
forty generations. The Talmud is no longer a chronicle
of passionate futilities, but the record of intensely prac-
tical discussions; and even the scriptural text, viewed
more closely, attains a new beauty and magnificence. The
reader is able to correlate what was once an apparently
arbitrary confusion of argument, which could interest only
the erudite and the curious, with the problems which occupy
the minds of thoughtful men today, and will continue to do
so for centuries to come. The history which is revealed to
us is as instructive for our social-minded generation as any
other record of the past; and, by virtue of the strange r 61 e
which these ancient groups have played in the development
of human thought, even more fascinating.
The main thesis emerging out of this analysis is that the
prophetic, Pharisaic and rabbinic traditions were the pro-
ducts of a persistent cultural battle, carried on in Palestine
for fifteen centuries, between the submerged, unlanded
groups, and their oppressors, the great landowners. Begin-
ning in the primitive opposition of the semi-nomadic shep-
herd and the settled farmer, the struggle developed into
a new alignment of the small peasant of the highland
against the more prosperous farmer of the valleys and
the plains. From the province the conflict was transferred
to the cities, where it expressed itself in the resistance of
traders and artisans to the nobles and courtiers. Finally,
it appeared in the sanctuary itself in the bitter rivalry
between Levite and priest.
The clash between the opposing groups of the Second
Commonwealth and of the first centuries of the Christian
Era was as significant, morally and spiritually, as was that
between the prophets and their opponents, centuries earlier.
INTRODUCTION
3
The formal issues changed; the fundamental differences
remained the same. The social forces which had made
the patrician landowner of the eleventh century B.C.E.
desert the YHWH of his nomadic ancestors and worship
the baalim of the earlier Canaanite agriculturists, and
had driven his successors of the sixth century B.C.E. to
imitate Assyrian and Egyptian manners, dress and wor-
ship, produced the Hellenist in the third century B.C.E.,
as well as the Sadducee and the Herodian of a later genera-
tion. Conversely, the follower of the prophet gave way to
the Hasid, and the latter was succeeded by the Pharisee.
When Pharisaism became practically synonymous with
Judaism, the divisive forces made themselves felt within
it, and there arose the two factions of Shammaites and
Hillelites to struggle for the control of the party.
The division of these classes in life was, of course, far
less sharply defined than can be indicated in the following
pages. The student must use this discussion as he would
a Mercator’s map of the globe, making constant mental
adjustment for the need of reducing the infinitely compli-
cated facts of reality to the simplicity of words and paper.
Throughout the analysis the response of the mass is re-
corded; that of the exceptional individual must, generally,
be ignored, except where, as in the case of some of the most
distinguished prophets, it affected the whole course of the
normal social development. It is not that the individual,
with his special idiosyncracies, is forgotten; it is rather that
we have finally realized that he cannot be understood until
the normal mass reaction of which he is part is fully analyzed.
Because of the fundamental polarity of ancient Pales-
tinian economy and politics, the various social conflicts
were usually lost in a single dichotomy, separating the
4
THE PHARISEES
nation into plebeians and patricians. Sometimes, however,
the complications of the opposed and contrasted interests
led to the growth of three, or four, or even more parties.
Indeed the cross section of the sociological strata of Jewish
Palestine during the last decade of the Second Common-
wealth, presents the following complicated aspect:
Upper Classes
Middle Classes
Lower Classes
Submerged Groups
I. Jerusalem
r Lay Nobility
Temple Nobility
Emancipated Women of
these classes
Lower Lay Patricians
Lower Aaronids
Emancipated Women of
these classes
f Levites (including Sing-
ers and Gate-Keepers
of the Temple)
Traders } Hillelites
Artisans
Women of these Classes
f Unemancipated Women ]
Paupers
Slaves
Generally Herodian® or
Romanophile; some-
times Sadducean;
perhaps a few Sham-
maitic
Generally Sadducean; a
few Shammaite
Views unknown, prob-
ably generally assi-
milationist
Shammaitic, in the main
Culturally ineflPective
INTRODUCTION
5
Upper Classes
Lower Classes
Submerged Classes
Upper Classes
Middle Classes
Submerged Groups
IL Judea
Landowners of Jericho
Landowners of Coastal
Plain and Shefelah
Provincial Priests
Farmers of Highland
Shepherds
Women
< Hired men on the farms
^ Slaves
III. Galilee
[ Large Landowners
Emancipated Women
Small Landowners
City Artisans and
Traders
" Unemancipated Women
Hired Farm-Workers
Slaves
Apparently generally
assimilationist or
Romanophile
Ha~Are%\ some-
times Shammaite
^Am Ha-Arez^ some-
times Shammaite
Shammaite, Hillelite,
Essene, Sectarian;
'Am Ha-Arez
Hillelite, Essene, Sec-
tarian, 'Am Ha^Arez
Culturally Ineffective
^'Ain Ha^AreZy some-
\ times Shammaite;
J frequently Zealot
Usually Zealot, some-
times Sectarian
I Culturally ineffective
6
THE PHARISEES
The division of classes in earlier times was doubtless
simpler; and yet followed the same general pattern. How
these various groups came to interact as they did, and the
manner in which their activity led to the development of
prophetic and rabbinic Judaism, are the problems which
must concern us in the following chapters.
II. PALESTINE AND ITS DIVISIONS
The Mishna tells us of Palestine, that it was divided into
three provinces, Judea, Galilee, and Transjordan (the
Peraea of the Gospels).^ Samaria, a beautiful and fruitful
hill country, lying between Judea and Galilee, was never
occupied by Jews and played no part in the development
of their thought. Its people, descended in part from the
Ten Tribes and in part from immigrants transplanted into
Palestine by the Assyrian kings (ca. 700 B.C.E.), served
the God of Israel and even accepted the Law of Moses.
Yet they were bitterly hostile to the Judeans and at no
time became united with them. Transjordan, too, impor-
tant in early biblical days, the birthplace of Jephthah the
judge and Elijah the prophet,^ had sunk into cultural
insignificance during the Second Commonwealth. How-
ever, it still was accounted part of Jewish Palestine; while
Galilee and Judea, together with their capital, Jerusalem,
which spiritually loomed larger than either and dominated
both, constituted for the Maccabean a diversified and
almost self-sustaining world.
Separated from this world by the distance of five thousand
miles and the passage of twenty centuries, the modern
student may regard it as a small, undifferentiated unit,
an atom hardly capable of further division. To the con-
temporary Palestinian Jew, however, who compared his
country not with the continents which are now familiar to
us, not even with remote Babylonia and Persia, but with
neighboring Edom and Tyre, it comprised within its ten
8
THE PHARISEES
thousand square miles a “broad and goodly country of
varied climateSj races, occupations and interests.
In the middle of the second century B.C.E., this tiny
Jewish Commonwealth had, almost by a miracle, torn itself
free from the huge Syrian Empire. Yet, within seventy
years, it was destined to lie once more sick and bleeding,
rent by internal conflict, a temptation to the next conquer-
or, Rome. The unity of the people, evoked by persecution
and strengthened by the enthusiasm of unexpected vic-
tory, maintained itself only for a brief interval against
the divisive forces inherent in the social structure and
given freer play by the removal of external pressure. By
a curious and inevitable paradox, the vehemence which had
overcome internal division in the face of foreign armies was
transferred to the social and religious struggles within the
Commonwealth; so that the very force which alone had been
able to bring victory was also fated to bring ruin. Like the
virtuous maiden in the Arabian tale, Judea was herself de-
stroyed by the magical fires which she had drawn from her
inner being to conquer the evil genie. The astonishing
result of the unequal struggle against Antiochus and his
armies had transformed the belief in the truth and divinity
of the Law not merely into a principle, but into a rigid sys-
tem of Divine discipline which elevated the smallest minutiae
of observance into passionate issues calling for the sacrifice of
life and limb. Insignificant variations of rite and custom, born
of irrelevant differences of life and environment, were given
an exaggerated importance comparable to that of court
etiquette and legal formality. The nation became parti-
tioned into small groups each of which was firmly persuaded
of its monopoly of universal truth, and was certain that the
coming of the Messiah depended on the general acceptance
PALESTINE AND ITS DIVISIONS
9
of its beliefs- Fads became fetishes, congregations hardened
into sects. This fanatical atmosphere gave rise to the
ascetic Essenes, the anti-ecclesiastic New Covenanters,
the Morning Bathers, the Water Drinkers, the Worshipers
at Sunrise,® and, it is said, no less than a score of other tiny
but determined sects and societies.^
Curiously, the only group among all of these which re-
tained its poise and equanimity, which continued to be
tolerant of opposition without and division within, was that
of the Pharisees. Never has a religious sect been more
open-minded.® They continued to worship at the sanc-
tuary though a High Priest of the opposing group stood at
its head- They permitted differences of opinion among
their members and encouraged the preservation of variant
rituals. Except during brief intervals of inflamed passion,
neither of their factions attempted to foist its views on the
other. “Both traditions are the words of the living God,”
was one of their fundamental norms.® “Although one
group permitted what the other prohibited and one declared
pure what the other declared impure, they did not refuse
to prepare their food together or to intermarry with one
another, fulfilling the verse, ‘Love ye truth and peace.’
An unwritten law required both factions, the Shammaites
and the Hillelites, to be represented in the government of
the party and forbade the selection of the leader of the
sect and his associate from the same group.® Indeed, the
Pharisees attached such importance to this rule that when
they achieved national power, they introduced it into the
government of the Commonwealth and made bi-partisan
control a cornerstone of their unwritten constitution.®
This tolerance is the more remarkable because it was
combined with a deep passion for the Law. There have
10
THE PHARISEES
been many periods in the world when people were broad-
minded regarding questions to which they were indifferent;
the Pharisees were almost unique in developing a liberal
attitude toward a problem which was the primary concern
of their life — the study and observance of the Torah. To
be wholeheartedly devoted to the truth as one sees it, and
yet to permit deviation from it in teaching and practice is
an attitude worthy of a modern scientist. Its occurrence
among the ancient Pharisees, and particularly among their
Hillelite faction, is doubtless to be associated with the
intellectual curiosity which was characteristic of their lead-
ership. Whether their liberalism was the cause or the effect
of their intellectualism, or both were the results of some
more recondite force, cannot be definitely ascertained.
It was this paradoxical combination of religious passion
and intellectual objectivity which differentiated Pharisaic
tolerance from that affected by some of the Sadducees.
According to both Josephus and the Talmud, there were
many Sadducees who in their daily life observed the rules
of the Pharisees.!® But this denial of their own principles
by the Sadducees cannot be considered true tolerance; it
was rather a result of their utter worldliness and lack of
interest in the issues which were of such deep concern to
the pious. The faithful Sadducee tended to be as narrow
and fanatical in his views as the members of any minor
sect.
The liberalism of the Pharisees and the indifference of
the Sadducees could not, however, bring about a union of
the two sects. The deep social clefts between the two parties
permitted no real meeting of minds. Natural topography
combined with man-made institutions to create differences
PALESTINE AND ITS DIVISIONS
11
and stir up hatreds in the tiny Commonwealth. To appre-
ciate the significance of these factors making for division,
we must analyze the social structure of the various com-
ponents of Jewish Palestine.
A. Jerusalem
From the southern tip of a long plateau, ancient Jeru-
salem looked down on three sides into deep gorges, which
made it quite inaccessible. Only from the North, across
the range leading to Shechem and Samaria, can traders or
armies approach the mountain fastness which David chose
as his impregnable capital. The “sweet singer” and excel-
lent warrior did not foresee the difficulties which his suc-
cessors would have to overcome before they could contrive
to transform the Jebusite village which he had elevated to
the first place in Israel into a “gate of my people.”’-^ From a
rural town, with threshing floors on its outskirts, Jerusalem
became a busy market place in Josiah’s day and, by the
time of the Psalmist, was “As a city that is compact to-
gether” (Ps. 122.3). The temple-site which David bought
from Arauna, the Jebusite, for fifty shekels of silver^^ (re-
ceiving as a gratuity the oxen that worked it) appeared to
the Chronicler to be a bargain at six hundred shekels of
gold.’-* Making allowance for the rapid decline in the value
of silver, the enormous difference still gives eloquent and
unimpeachable evidence of Jerusalem’s growth from the
days of its first king to those of the Levitical historian.
In this metropolis lived, at a conservative estimate, some
75,000 persons,^ including the royal and high-priestly
families, the great merchants, and the wealthy land-owning
12
THE PHARISEES
nobility, who preferred the atmosphere and profits of court
and office to life on their own large rural estates, the Temple
priests, the lower Temple servants (i. e. the Levites), offi-
cials, traders, artisans, beggars, and slaves. Together they
constituted about one tenth of the country s population.^®
But the influence of the city was entirely disproportionate
to the numbers of its inhabitants. Ever since the days of
David, the city had literally and figuratively towered over
its entire hinterland and had drawn to itself the most signif-
icant elements in the population. The men of wealth who
could live from the rent of their estates, the skilled artisans
who sought work, the clever traders who were ambitious
for gain, the poets, the writers, the singers, and the prophets
all drifted toward the Court, the Temple, and the metrop-
olis. Micah, finding no response in his native Mareshah,
Jeremiah, wearied with the obstinacy of the men of Ana-
thoth, both turned hopefully to Jerusalem. It was not only
the first of Judean cities; it had no real second. As in post-
war Austria, the entire urban population of the country
was practically concentrated in a single locality, a huge
head set with fascinating deformity upon a meager body.
In the period under discussion, the patrician and fash-
ionable quarter of Jerusalem was its higher, western mount,
which is separated from the lower, eastern knolls, by a deep
cleft, still clearly discernible, although centuries of sediment
have moderated its ancient declivity. In this cool and
breezy “Upper City,” free from the odors and crowds of the
valley and the older eastern quarter, dwelt the rich of the
land, in their proud mansions, surrounded by their numer-
ous slaves and enjoying the fear and respect of the multi-
tude, no less than the luxuries of power and opulence. They
used gold bindings for the palm branches which they carried
PALESTINE AND ITS DIVISIONS
13
in the festive Temple ceremonies of the Sukkot week;^® and
gold containers for the first fruits which they brought on
Pentecost3^ A special regulation was needed to prohibit
them from covering their phylacteries with gold3® Such
was their standard of living that when a widow of their
class was given an allowance of two seahs (about eight gal-
lons) of wine for the use of her household per day, she
cursed the Court, saying, “May you make similar allowance
for your own children.” “And,” reports one of the judges,
“we answered ‘Amen’ to her wish.”^® It is said that this
same lady paid Agrippa II three kabs (about three quarts)
of gold dinars to obtain the High Priesthood for her hus-
band.^*® Desiring to see him perform his most imposing
service, that of the Day of Atonement, when it is forbidden
to wear shoes, she had silk coverings spread over the streets
from her house to the Temple Mount, so that she did not
have to expose her bare feet to the soil.^^ The expense of
maintaining a patrician household can be estimated from
the fact that another widow was granted four hundred
silver dinars (ca. ^100) a day for her personal expenses.®*
There is good authority for the statement that when Ves-
pasian was about to besiege Jerusalem, three of the city’s
nobles had stored away sufficient food to take care of the
whole city for three years.*® To this day the section of the
city in which these aristocrats dwelt — approximately that
now occupied by the Armenian and Christian quarters —
has retained something of its ancient glory and shows marks
of superior wealth and taste. In Maccabean times, it was
a new part of the city, to which the patricians fled from
the suflFocating neighborhood of their humbler brethren.
It was adorned by the Herodians with their great palaces,
and during the last war against Rome (66—70 C.E.) was the
14
THE PHARISEES
haven of the aristocrats who, opposing the mutiny, fortified
themselves within it and made occasional sallies against
the lower city to force the submission of the rebels to recog-
nized, pagan authority.®^
The income of these patricians, the largest landowners
in the Commonwealth, was derived in the main from their
vast estates, which were worked by slaves and hired men
or let to tenants.^® ‘‘Who is a man of wealth? remarked
R. Tarfon, “he who possesses a hundred vineyards and a
hundred fields and a hundred slaves to work them/’^® The
ecclesiastics among this aristocracy received large perqui-
sites, which in spite of their affluence they readily accepted
and even eagerly sought.^^ Many of them, as well as the
lay patricians, also engaged in ‘'great commerce,'’ i. e.,
import and export.^® The difference between them and the
plebeian traders corresponded exactly to that between the
emporoi and kapeloi of the Egyptian papyri.®^
The great valley which runs below these hills, cutting
across the city from north to south, took its name (the
Tyropoean) from the cheese-makers who were apparently
its principal inhabitants. But it also provided room for
other merchants and shop-keepers, for its southern end
was apparently the center of the weaving trade.®® It is
recorded that as early as the seventh century B.C.E.,
Jeremiah, needing a potter, descended into this historic
valley (Jer. 18.3). To the northeast of it arose the noble
Temple Mount, while to the southeast lay the “Lower
City’' which, except for a few great palaces, was almost
exclusively inhabited by Jerusalem’s plebeians. The Has-
monean High Priests, desiring to be near the Temple, and
perhaps also wishing to show their democracy, had built
their homes there, and their example was followed by the
PALESTINE AND ITS DIVISIONS
15
famous Queen Helene, the Arabian proselyte who left her
kingdom to live in Jerusalem. But aside from such excep-
tional structures, the section was given over, like the Tyro-
poean valley itself, to the slums of Jerusalem.
Here, in lanes so narrow that a camel laden with flax was
in danger of having it ignited by the merchant’s candle
(litigation ensuing from such an occurrence is, in fact, dis-
cussed in the Talmud),’^ and in “houses” sometimes no
more than twelve feet long and eight feet wide,*^ slept and
labored the families of the artisans and traders. The avail-
able space was at most doubled by the common courtyard
into which these tiny cells opened.®® Frequently, however,
the courtyard was so crowded that the pious householder
had to be relieved from the duty of building a complete
booth for the Autumn Festival and was permitted to assuage
his conscience with a bower large enough to hold his head
and his back.®^ Placing it at his door so that his table, his
hands and his feet protruded into the house, he fulfilled
the barest letter of the biblical commandment: “In booths
shall ye dwell seven days.”®®
Except for the artisans of the Temple, who were well
paid, some of the specialists among them receiving, it is
said, as much as twelve minas (about three hundred dollars)
per day,®® the average wages of workers in Jerusalem were
small. Usually they amounted to about one dinar (about
twenty-five cents) per day, in addition to their food.®'
This was equivalent, in purchasing power, to about three-
eighths of a bushel of wheat.®® Some, however, did not
receive even that much. It is recorded, for instance, that
Hillel, who was later to become the foremost scholar in
Israel, earned only half a zuz per day when he came to
Jerusalem as an immigrant from Babylonia.®® Under such
16
THE PHARISEES
circumstances, life could be maintained only at the lowest
possible level. Bread and some cabbage, garlic or turnip,
morning and night, meat once a week on the Sabbath day
(for the more affluent) — was the usual fare.^° A linen sheet
thrown over the body served as covering at night; by many
it was also used as clothing by day.^^
While rich and poor lived in close proximity, they be-
longed culturally and socially to separate worlds from which
neither made any effort to escape. Like the great land-
owners of the Middle Ages, the patricians of Jerusalem
considered themselves particularly “noble”^^ and above
mingling with the masses of the people. “This was the
custom of the esthetically minded ‘men of Jerusalem,’ ”
we are informed, “they would not act as witnesses to
a document unless they knew who the other witnesses
were, nor would they sit in judgment unless they knew
who' the other judges were, nor would they accept an
invitation to dinner, unless they knew who the other
guests were.”^ Perhaps it was this snobbishness which
made it necessary for them to adopt the Egyptian custom
of repeating every dinner invitation on the day of the
appointment.^ In the carefully kept genealogical records
of the Temple, the families of these patricians were espe-
cially noted as those into which priests might marry.^® In
their fear of plebeian contamination, the patricians gener-
ally preferred, however, to marry within their own clans.^®
So prevalent did the marriage of near relatives become
among them that some of the plebeian sects, in their resent-
ment, declared marriages between uncles and nieces noth-
ing less than incestuous.'*^
It was entirely natural that these “men of Jerusalem”
should be high-handed in their treatment of their employees
PALESTINE AND ITS DIVISIONS
17
and the traders who supplied their needs* When they
appointed a chef to prepare a meal^ a reliable authority
informs us, they held him responsible for any contretemps
which occurred and made him pay damages in accordance
‘‘with their social position and that of their guests/’^® A
number of maxims current among them have been pre-
served, and are especially significant for their attitude of
mind. “Do not resort to roofs/’ they said, “lest you fall
into the sin of David; if your daughter has grown up and
is still unmarried, free your slave and marry her to him;
and be careful of the affection of your wife for her first
son-in4aw.”^®
Peculiarly enough, their consciousness of caste did not
prevent them from engaging in activities of true philan-
thropy and humanitarianism. Even the most helpless was
the recipient of some of their benefactions. When a dinner
was served in one of their houses, a napkin was hung over
the door to indicate that the poor were welcome to come in.®®
Both men and women organized themselves into chari-
table associations. The women devoted themselves more
particularly to those activities which required a special
degree of piety and humanitarianism. They provided for
the needs of the boys who were raised with special care for
their Levitical purity so that they might take part in the
ceremony of the Red Heifer; and they provided the nar-
cotic which rendered the criminal condemned to death less
sensitive to pain.®^
The poor artisan or trader bore no resentment against
his wealthier neighbor, being resigned to his poverty and
convinced that so wide a gulf of worldly circumstance
could never be bridged. Since marriage customs, funeral
rites, and festival observances could not be the same for
18
THE PHARISEES
him as for the owners of the spacious homes on the hills,
his human self-respect compelled him to find a particular
virtue in his own way of living. He was proud of his tradi-
tions and customs and determined to cling to them.
This pride was strengthened by the conviction of intel-
lectual superiority. Contact with traders from all parts
of Palestine and foreign countries had sharpened his wits
and developed his powers of conversation. He had, indeed,
social graces quite unknown among the gentry, whose life
was spent in the unstimulating companionship of subjected
wives,®* intimidated children and brutalized slaves. If,
like the barons of medieval Europe, the ancient Judean
aristocrats affected to despise such humble arts as reading
and writing, the artisan could, from the safe retreat of his
narrow cell, return contempt for contempt. There were
manual laborers who achieved a mastery of religious tradi-
tion and law, raising themselves, at least in the opinion of
the majority class, far above the wealthiest of their neigh-
bors. The absence of learning as a profession, subject to
the temptations of an alliance with wealth, left the scholars
or scribes of Palestine in the plebeian ranks from which
they had sprung.
The contrast between the upper and lower classes in
ancient Jerusalem had been noticed as early as the seventh
century B.C.E. by Jeremiah, when he came into the capital
city fresh from the simple, rural economy of Anathoth.
When he found to his dismay that the traders and artisans
among whom he had expected piety and devotion were
expert business men intent on their own material advance-
ment, he decided to turn to the rich for inspiration. “And
I said: ‘Surely these are poor, they are foolish, for they
know not the way of the Lord, nor the ordinance of their
PALESTINE AND ITS DIVISIONS
19
God; I will get me unto the great men, and will speak unto
them ; for they know the way of the Lord, and the ordinance
of their God.’ ” Alas, he discovered that if the poor workers
and merchants were wily traffickers, their “betters” “had
altogether broken the yoke, and burst the bands” of reli-
gious faith and devotion (5.4 ff.).
The masses of Jerusalem thus presented a certain soli-
darity of opposition to the spiritual mastery of the nobility.
Instead of accepting the manners of the patricians as the
“respectable” standard, they actually sought — and in part
successfully — to impose their own forms on the community.
In earlier Jewish history, the plebeians had lacked both
opportunity and desire for such self-assertion. Either they
had lived in small communities, dominated spiritually as
well as politically and economically by their “betters,” or
they had been scattered shepherds, inarticulate and few
in number. Elijah the Tishbite, Amos of Tekoa, and a few
anonymous writers had indeed impressed their personali-
ties on wider circles than their immediate followers; but
there was little hope for the dominance of plebeian culture
until the rise of the urban center. The massing of the impov-
erished not by hundreds but by thousands gave them a com-
munity feeling and an ability to establish their own stand-
ards of worth which, in the end, affected also the higher
strata of the population.®® But, even more important, the
struggle to maintain their cultural standards in the face of
economic adversity developed in them that peculiar ideal-
ism and that purity of motive which transformed them into
the spiritual mentors of the western world. While the
prophets and sages were drawn, as we shall see, from all
classes, the support which their teaching received in the
slums of Jerusalem was the ultimate force which made for
20
THE PHARISEES
the preservation and spread of their ideals. The market
place of Judea’s capital became a dynamo of religious and
intellectual activity, producing light and energy for distant
nations and generations yet unborn.
The shift of power in Jerusalem itself was nevertheless
slow and uncertain because the receptivity of the patrician
landowners was naturally low. They were mostly wealthy,
ignorant and satisfied. Their social relations were mainly
with other large farmers, and prestige was reckoned in
acres and not in memorized texts. Some of them were
intimates of the governing officials — the Persians in their
day, and, after them, the Seleucids and the Hasmonean
High Priests. Such intercourse, however, implied neither
polish nor erudition.
The Temple hierarchy was perfectly at home in this
brutish society, for the priesthood was generally as unlet-
tered as the rest of the nobility.®^ In the last Temple days,
when learning had achieved some standing, there were
High Priests who could not read the Bible. To make a sign,
instead of writing one’s name, was so common among the
aristocracy that, like the use of the seal for the same reason,
it became a symbol of nobility. These priests cannot accu-
rately be described as the tools of the wealthy, for well-
authenticated records show that they themselves were
among the wealthiest of the people. “Most priests are
affluent,”®® runs a rabbinic proverb of the Second Jewish
Commonwealth. The Legislator had indeed foreseen the
possibility of this development and had in vain prohibited
priests from holding land.®® Ingenious interpreters had
found an escape from the injunction, restricting its appli-
cation to the tribe as distinguished from the individual
members. In this way, it became inapplicable to their
PALESTINE AND ITS DIVISIONS
21
own day when only two of the twelve tribes made up the
Jewish Commonwealth. The obvious and farsighted inten-
tion of the prophetic teacher to prevent an alliance between
the Temple hierarchy and the secular power was ignored.
The priests seized the land and themselves became the
wealthiest people in the country. Unfortunately for them,
even the simplest and most credulous souls could not regard
their wealth as the reward of their piety for, whatever their
devotion to the ritual, they were grossly and shamelessly
materialistic. Hence, it was said — and quite without irony
— that their success came to them because of the Mosaic
prayer, “Bless, O Lord, his possessions,”®' in which the
prophet was supposed to be speaking of the priests, the
traditional “sons of Aaron.”
While the priests were, in general, both economically
and culturally, members of the patrician class, they had
special interests of their own which divided them from the
whole laity. They usually married within their own tribe®*
and tried to make it an absolute rule for the High Priest
to do so.®* When anyone offered to marry their daughters
they demanded twice the usual marriage settlement.®*
According to Josephus, they refused to permit any of their
number to marry a woman “who gained her livelihood
through hawking or innkeeping.”*' Alone of all the Israel-
ites, they would not countenance marriage to proselyte
women or women who had had sex-relations with anyone
who was “unfit for marriage into the priesthood.”®* Whether
the “defilement” had occurred through marriage or other-
wise made no difference. Indeed, if the wife of one of them
was outraged, her husband might either divorce her or
keep her; he could never again live with her. Even the
slightest possibility of pollution was sufficient for them to
22
THE PHARISEES
insist on this rule. Zechariah ben ha-Kazzab, one of the
foremost priests of Jerusalem, reports that when the city
was taken by the armies of Titus, he remained with his
wife throughout the period of murder, violence and rapine
which followed. ‘T swear by the Temple,” he cried, “that
her hand did not move from mine from the time the pagans
entered Jerusalem until they left it.” But his colleagues
refused to permit him to live with her. “No one can
testify in a case in which he has a special interest,” they
replied.®
This pride of caste did not, however, prevent division
from arising in their midst. A few of the wealthiest clans
asserted a right to have the High Priest chosen from among
their members. There was some historical basis for such a
claim until the second century B.C.E. in the fact that the
“high-priestly family” — there was only one in those days —
was actually descended from Zadok, the first priest of
Solomon’s Temple. When the Hasmoneans ousted this
early family because its members had become Hellenists,
they or their clients invented a genealogy which made
them Zadokides.® When, however, Herod came to power, he
decided, in his eagerness to destroy the high-priesthood as
a rival dynasty, to sell the office to the highest bidder and in
fact gave preference to priests who could not possibly
claim any ancestral privileges.® Yet in the course of time
these new arrivals at the high-priestly dignity covered
themselves, too, with the cloak of Zadok. They refused to
mingle on terms of equality with the other members of
their tribe; gave the highest offices in the Temple to their
sons and their sons-in-law; and on occasion quarreled with
the less affluent ecclesiastics about some of their perqui-
PALESTINE AND ITS DIVISIONS
23
sites.®* There is some evidence that the most extreme among
them, also, considered marriage outside their own families
improper; and they certainly forbade their members to
marry daughters of the laity.
Through these methods they reduced some of the other
priests to poverty, so that in the last decades of the Temple
we discover a small but significant priestly proletariat.®^'
Even those, however, who escaped this complete impover-
ishment were conscious of the social ostracism which they
suffered; it is probably this which drove many of them from
the Sadducism which was natural to their tribe into the
ranks of the Pharisees.
The true plebeians of the Temple were, of course, the
propertyless Levites. They made common cause with the
plebeians of the city and of the province and led the opposi-
tion against the patricians both in the Sanctuary and out-
side it. So powerful, however, was the caste system of
the Temple, that these Levites themselves were divided
into two classes: the “singers” and the “gate-keepers.”
The different offices descended by inheritance from father
to son; and so sharp was the cleavage between them that
when once a “singer” approached a “gate-keeper” and
offered to help him at his work, the latter cried out, “Go
back; you are a singer; and a singer who closes the gates
commits a capital offense!”®®
In spite of this apparent acceptance of aristocratic stand-
ards, the Levites were, undoubtedly, an effective force in
spreading the ideal of human equality and liberty of thought
among the people. If Jerusalem became the Holy City of
the world, that was due not to the Temple and the priests,
but to the Levites and the scribes.
24
THE PHARISEES
B. The Provincials*
However much, the inhabitants of Jerusalem disagreed
among themselves, they were at one in the natural con-
tempt of townspeople for the provincial.” The division
between the inhabitants of Jerusalem and the rest of the
country became evident as early as the ninth century B.C.E.
The historian of the period says significantly that, after the
revolt against the usurping queen Athaliah (ca. 835 B.C.E.),
“all the people of the land rejoiced and the city was quiet"
(II Kings 11.20). The words imply— what is also indicated
in the story of what preceded the coup — that the restora-
tion of the rightful heir was received joyously in the country
but rather resignedly in the city.^® A hundred years later
Isaiah speaks regularly of “the inhabitants of Jerusalem
and the men of Judah,”” as though the two different groups
were, in his eyes at least, of equal importance. Jeremiah,
whose special interest in the tribe of Benjamin might have
led him to distinguish it from the rest of Judah, also accepts
the earlier division of the Commonwealth into metropolis
and province (7.34). A native of the country, he consis-
tently mentions Judah before Jerusalem while Isaiah, the
city-bred prophet, always gives priority to the capital.
The increased importance which came to Jerusalem in
the Second Commonwealth sharpened the opposition be-
tween it and the country. The patricians of the city, proud
of their urban sophistication, their governmental or hier-
archal connections, and the superior wealth which enabled
them to retire from active farm-life, regarded their former
neighbors, who still followed the team and the plough, with
pitying condescension.’* The plebeian craftsmen and
merchants of Jerusalem, though poor and landless, shared
* C£ Supplement, pp. 754-761.
PALESTINE AND ITS DIVISIONS
25
this feeling entirely. With singular opprobrium, both
classes applied to the provincial the term ^am ha-^arez^ mean-
ing literally "'people of the soil/’^^ In pre-exilic times, this
term had, strangely, been one of honor and distinction.
The country squires, for whom it had been coined, had
been a powerful class in the community. They formed
the backbone of the militia and paid the bulk of the taxes.
From the ninth century B.C.E. on, they seem to have
formed a definite corporate body with recognized rights,
privileges, and powers, enjoying the respect as well as the
fear of the larger community. The princes and the nobles
who lived in the capital frequently managed to lead them,
but always had to reckon with them. Their loyalty to the
Davidic dynasty was one of the main bulwarks of its
strength, and their fanatical nationalism led to the repeated
revolts against Assyria and Babylonia which terminated
in the destruction of Jerusalem. In the fourth and third
centuries B.C.E., however, when the Jewish Common-
wealth was merely an unimportant dependency of the
great Persian or Seleucid Empires, military service brought
no glory and payment of taxes gave few privileges. The 'am
ha-arez were no longer honored as a powerful body but
rather despised as brutish individuals. As the standards
of patrician wealth and plebeian learning rose, the gentry,
whose possessions were limited and whose learning was nil,
sank progressively in the esteem of the townsmen. The
expression 'am ha^arez became, like the English word "vil-
lain,’’ first a term of disparagement, then of opprobrium,
though, to be sure, in another sense. Similarly, the English
word "boor” and the Yiddish corruption "payer" (mean-
ing, simply, "dunce”) are associated with the term BaueVy
which in German has retained its honorific implications;
26
THE PHARISEES
and the expressions pagan (derived from the Latin paganus^
meaning ^"villager”) and heathen (from the root heath )
are reminders that long after Christianity had made its
way in the towns, the countryside remained unconverted.
The expression ^am ha-arez, passing through a similar
development, had by the beginning of the Common Era
come to mean nothing more than ignorant. It is in this
sense that, for instance, Hillel (ca. 30 B.C.E.— 20 C.E.) uses
it, when he says, “The brutish cannot be God-fearing nor
can the ‘am ha-arez (the ignorant) be saintly.”’^
In addition to the ordinary contempt which any metro-
politan might feel for an unsophisticated farmer, the men
of Jerusalem found an impassable religious barrier set up
between the provincials and themselves in the Levitical
laws of purity. These laws were established in Scripture
for the whole community but, in practice, came to be ob-
served only in Jerusalem and its environs. Consequently,
the whole nation, except those living in or near Jerusalem,
was Levitically impure. Since an impure person contami-
nates any vessel or food which he touches, natural social
relations between the two groups were impossible.
Yet the inhabitants of Jerusalem themselves must have
realized that these laws could not be observed outside of
the capital. The Law declares a person defiled by the
simplest and most natural acts and occurrences. The
proximity of a dead body, a cemetery, contact with the
carcass of an animal, seminal issue, sexual congress, sitting
on a mat previously used by a menstruous woman — these,
and many other similar “accidents,” defiled one. Some of
these defilements were removed by the comparatively easy
ceremony of ritual bathing, but others required nothing
less than a visit to the Temple and the elaborate ceremonies
PALESTINE AND ITS DIVISIONS
27
of sacrifice or the sprinkling of the ashes of the “red heif-
er.”^® Since even a pious peasant could hardly be expected
to undertake the difficult and arduous donkey-ride to Jeru-
salem whenever he had visited his ancestors’ graves or
attended a funeral, most of the country population was
continually impure.
However, in Jerusalem, where the laws were easily ob-
served, they were held in the highest regard. There must
have been some feeling among the people that they had a
hygienic as well as a religious value; and, indeed, there is
a strong resemblance between the precautions against
impurity prescribed in the Talmud and those against infec-
tion prescribed by modern science.^® In a semi-tropical
country a human corpse is one of the foremost sources of
disease and those touching it are rightly separated from the
community for a time. There is similar danger in persons
suffering from various sexual diseases. The person “with a
flow” was a potential focus of infection, and the Legislator
wisely cut him off from the community until he was healed.
Significantly, he was required to bathe in “living” rather
than in still waters. Such precautions might be superfluous
in sparsely populated villages, but they were essential to
the welfare of Jerusalem’s many thousands. They were
particularly important at the Temple, where people gath-
ered in such numbers that on festival days its courts were
filled to utmost capacity. Indeed, on the Passover eve,
the courts would be crowded and emptied three times
before the crowd of pilgrims had been accommodated.’®
Under such conditions, the Levitical laws were no longer
mere ceremonial rites; they were rules of health which
prevented each festival from leading to an epidemic.
By one of those strange primitive intuitions which con-
28
THE PHARISEES
tinually surprise us in the study of ancient manners and
habits, the men of Jerusalem knew that the Levitical laws
were means not only of serving God but of protecting man.
Whatever excuse might be offered for him, the ^am ha-arez^
who neglected these laws, came inevitably to be regarded
not only as intellectually debased but religiously impure.
The ‘am ka-arez was also “suspected” of violating another
commandment of Scripture. The biblical law, as inter-
preted in the Second Commonwealth, placed two taxes
of ten percent each on all agricultural products of the coun-
try. The first tithe was for the support of the Levites, the
second belonged to its owner but had to be consumed in
Jerusalem.’® Like all other people, the peasants of Pales-
tine disliked taxes, whatever their purpose, and most of
them declined to give the first tithe to the Levite or take
the second to Jerusalem. Just how they reconciled their
inaction with the explicit commands of Scripture, as laid
down in Numbers (18.21 ff.) and Deuteronomy (14.22 if.),
need not concern us. To the men of Jerusalem the failure
to give the tithes seemed a patent denial of the authority
of the Torah; it was simply heresy.
No less objectionable from the sophisticated urban point
of view was the continued adherence of the provincial to
his ancestral superstitions. It is significant that long after
the Baal worship had apparently disappeared from Israel,
the field which was watered by rain was still called Bet
ha-Baal^ the territory of Baal, to distinguish it from the
Bet ha-Shelahimy the field which was watered by irrigation.
In later times, the use of this name was entirely innocent,
of course, like our use of the names of pagan deities to
designate the days of the week. Tet there can be no doubt
that in both instances the evidence of language proves the
PALESTINE AND ITS DIVISIONS
29
survival of primitive thought in the minds of the people,
long after they had officially been converted to the domi-
nant religion.^® The expression Bet ha-Baal was especially
incongruous in talmudic Judaism, because the Hasidim
and their followers, the Pharisees and the rabbinic sages,
considered it forbidden to mention the Baal, and frequently
replaced it with the word Boshet (shame) even in the text
of Scripture!
But more important than this archaic reference to the
Baal as the source of rain and fertility was the preserva-
tion of various “Amoritic” superstitions among the provin-
cials. Among these were such practices as the carrying of
bones of the dead as amulets, pouring out wine and oil on
festive occasions, and especially at the reception of honored
guests, and the recognition of certain days as being ill-
omened.®^
Finally, the peasant neglected all ceremonies in which
writing was involved. The biblical commandment, “And
thou shalt bind them for a sign about thy hand, and they
shall be for frontlets between thine eyes”®® was taken liter-
ally in Jerusalem, where pieces of parchment containing
four special chapters of the Torah were inserted into phylac-
teries itefillin) and worn about the arm and forehead,
especially during prayer. Similar scrolls were inserted
into little receptacles and attached to the door-posts in
accordance with the prescription of Deuteronomy 6.9 and
11.20. But the peasant could neither read the scrolls nor
write them. As a result, he knew nothing of phylacteries
or door-post inscriptions (mezuzot).^
The absolute enforcement of the laws of purity would
not only have cut Jerusalem off from the rest of the country.
30
THE PHARISEES
but would have ruined its commerce and probably precipi-
tated civil war. A compromise was of necessity arranged
and, since the country folk near Jerusalem were regarded
as generally observant, they were declared pure. An imagi-
nary line was drawn about Jerusalem at a distance of about
fifteen miles, through the village of Modin. Beyond that
point, the peasants were considered suspect in regard to
purity; within it, they were trusted. This led to a peculiar
but necessary paradox in the law. The Mishna states it
with the utmost frankness: “On the hither side of Modin
the peasants are trusted regarding the purity of their earth-
enware; beyond it they are not trusted. Thus it happens
that when a potter selling his pots passes Modin on the
way to Jerusalem, though he and the pots are the same as
before, they are now considered pure; if they return past
the line of Modin, he is no longer to be believed in regard
to their purity.”®^
Greater liberality was shown in connection with the
produce of the field. Most peasants, wishing to retain as
large a market for their crops as possible, would garner
them “in a state of purity.” At least, this was true in
Judea. Hence, throughout the province of Judea, though
not in Galilee, the farmers were trusted regarding the purity
of their wines and oils.
These compromise regulations prevented the differ-
ences in practice between Jerusalem and the provinces
from developing into a major schism. The fact remained,
however, that except within a short distance from the capi-
tal or at special times such as the vintage or harvest, the
ritual prescriptions which deeply affected life in Jerusalem
were absolutely ignored. Esoteric as the whole system of
Levitical purity seems to us, a large part of the religious
PALESTINE AND ITS DIVISIONS
31
life and thought of the observant Jew was occupied by it.
No less than one-sixth of the Mishna®® is devoted to a dis-
cussion of its minutiae. Such was the respect which these
regulations enjoyed among the inhabitants of Jerusalem
that, even after the destruction of the city, they continued
to adhere to them. For those families who moved in groups
to smaller villages, this entailed perhaps no extraordinary
hardship. But most of the former inhabitants of the city
were scattered after the year 70 C.E. in towns and hamlets
where they formed a small minority. Observance of the
rules of ritual purity meant separation from next-door
neighbors, refusal to mingle freely with fellow-villagers,
the loneliness of pedantry and snobbishness — all added to
the pains of poverty in a strange environment. Yet, many
preferred these sufferings to abandoning their ancestral
customs and to the adoption of the less vigorous Levitical
customs of the country.
One of these devoted ritualists had the presence of mind
to save the ashes of the last “red heifer” when the city of
Jerusalem was taken by the Romans and its Temple burned.
No new heifer could be sacrificed after the fall of the Temple,
but the ashes of the last one were preserved for no less than
200 years. As late as the third century C.E. the scholars
still “performed the purification ceremony” in Galilee.®*
When we recall that during those centuries the Jews passed
through the aftermath of the war against Vespasian, the
rebellion of Bar Kokeba and the persecutions of Hadrian;,
that they lost not only their Temple and their capital but
also the whole of the Judean province; we can readily appre-
ciate the devotion necessary to preserve these “ashes of the
red heifer.” There is something intensely pathetic in the
thought of these poor people, driven from their ancient
32
THE PHARISEES
city, struggling to adjust themselves to a new life and,
withal, insisting almost with their last breath upon saving
a peculiar ritual from the grinding jaws of devouring Time.
After the fall of Jerusalem the ^am ha-arez could no longer
be distinguished from the cultured by his habitat. The
destruction of Jerusalem had made peasants or, at least,
small townsmen and villagers of all its people. A new
touchstone was needed to mark off those who could be
trusted in matters of ritual purity from those who were
suspect. The first thought that suggested itself to the
scholars of the day was that the observance of the minutiae
of Jewish law, which had become usual in Jerusalem and
was disregarded outside, might serve as a test. “Who
is an ‘am ha-arezi R. Eliezer says, ‘He who does not read
the Shema‘ morning and night.’ R. Joshua says, ‘He who
does not wear the phylacteries.’ Ben Azzai says, ‘He who
does not wear fringes {zizit) on his garment.’
Such signs could, however, merely distinguish, but not
separate the pure from the suspect. In the painful proxim-
ity which their common defeat had brought to both
classes, the bitterness, which had been only partly ex-
pressed before, broke out into open and intense hostility.
Signs of violent hatred for the city man on the part of the
‘am ha-arez are not lacking even before the year 70 C.E.
Indeed, Christianity owed its origin in part to the unpopu-
larity of the city people among the peasants who confused
the social grace of the trader with dissembling and hypoc-
risy.*® But the vehement excoriations of Jesus against the
Scribes were mildness itself compared with the almost savage
ferocity which the ‘am ha-arez of the following century
felt for the cultured group. Toward the end of the first
century, R. Eliezer remarked, “If the ‘am ha-arez did not
PALESTINE AND ITS DIVISIONS
33
need us for the purposes of trade, they would slaughter
us.”®^ Another teacher maintained that “the hatred which
the ^ am ha~arez bears towards the scholar is greater than
that which the pagan bears towards the Jew.” R. Akiba,
whose first forty years were spent as an ignorant shepherd,
but who ultimately became one of Israel’s greatest scholars,
said, “When I was an ‘'am ha-arez, I used to say that if I
had a scholar I would bite him like an ass.”®”
This animosity between country and city, between
ignorance and letters, can be duplicated in many ages and
lands.” In ancient Palestine, there was added to natural
fear and dislike of one another the passion engendered by
the cruel opposition of their common enemy, Rome, as well
as by differences of religious observances and degrees of
patriotic emotion. The country gentry had been in the van
of Jewish nationalism and had suffered most in the recurrent
repressions under the Herodians and the Romans. Their
lands had been confiscated and divided among the flunkies
and flatterers of the conquerors. Their families had been
impoverished. Their children had been sold into slavery
or driven into exile. Their leaders had been tortured, cruci-
fied and thrown to the lions. From a lofty station many
of them had been reduced to the lowest rungs of the social
ladder. In their suffering they had not even the mitigating
solace of their countrymen’s respect. The Romans hated
them for their nationalism and the scholars despised them
for their ignorance.
The bitterness of their lot was aggravated by the venom
of envy. They begrudged the scholar not only his superior
pretensions and his joy in study but the respect which he
received from the Romans. R. Johanan ben Zakkai had
convinced the Romans of the pacifism of his colleagues and
34
THE PHARISEES
disciples. He had been able to save not only those who had
actively striven for peace and mediation but even such
bitter nationalists as R. Eliezer ben Hyrcanus and R. Gama-
liel, the son of a leader of the rebellion. Many a country
squire who had been robbed of his land must have won-
dered what virtue there was in learning to save its posses-
sor not only from a cruel death but even from the general
seizure of property.
Hate evoked hate. The scholar, who had merely despised
the peasant when he was at a distance, found him unbear-
able in close proximity. His boorish ways, his uncouth
manners, his narrow chauvinism, his lack of ideas, and
his small-talk made his company galling to the more sensi-
tive. In addition, the scholar was painfully aware of the
malice which the peasant felt towards him. “Six rules are
laid down in regard to the ^am ha-arez,” according to one
authority. “They are not to be asked to act as witnesses;
they are not to be permitted to testify; secrets are not to
be entrusted to them; they may not be appointed as trus-
tees for the estates of orphans; they may not be appointed
as trustees of charity funds; they may not be permitted
to escort one on one’s way.”®® Another authority main-
tains that an ‘am ha-arez should be forbidden to eat meat.®^
One great teacher, R. Meir (ca. 150 C.E.), says, “Whoever
marries his daughter to an ‘am ha~arez might as well bind
her before a lion. Just as a lion tears his victim to pieces
and then consumes him, so the ‘am ha-arez beats his wife
and then takes her into his embrace.”®® Another authority
remarks with vigor, “A man should sell all he has and
marry the daughter of a scholar. If he cannot find the
daughter of a scholar, let him marry the daughter of a
leader of the people. If he cannot find one, let him marry
PALESTINE AND ITS DIVISIONS
35
the daughter of a head of the synagogue. If that too be
impossible, let him marry the daughter of a distributor
of charity-funds or of a teacher of children. But let him,
under no circumstances, marry the daughter of an ‘am ha-
arez, for the ‘am ha-arez is despicable, and his wife is like
vermin, and to his daughters may be applied the verse,
‘Cursed be he that lieth with any manner of beast’!” (Deut.
27.21).
During a period of famine, R. Judah the Prince (ca. 200
C.E.) opened up his granaries and announced: “Let the
students of Scripture or of Mishna or of Tradition or of
codified norms or of ethical sayings enter and eat: but let
not any ‘am ha-arez come in!” One of the disciples of the
academy, feeling that the distinction was unjust, forced
his way into the presence of the prince and said, “Master,
feed me.” R. Judah said to him, “Hast thou read Scrip-
ture?” “No,” replied the student. “How then can I feed
thee?” cried the Master. “Feed me like a dog or a raven.”
After he had fed him, R. Judah, on whom the lesson had
been completely lost, was heard to moan, “Alas, that I
have given of my bread to the ‘am ha-arez”^’’
A contemporary scholar, R. Yannai, one day found a
stranger in the synagogue and, noticing his scholarly appear-
ance, immediately invited him to his home. After the
meal, he requested his guest to say grace. Unfortunately,
the stranger’s scholarship was limited to his mien and
bearing, but did not extend to a knowledge of the Law or
ritual. “I am unable to say grace,” he said humbly. “Say
it after me,” continued the haughty and indignant R.
Yannai, and then he pronounced the words: “A dog has
eaten the bread of Yannai.” Bitterly hurt, the poor peas-
ant said, “I have never had the opportunity of studying.
36
THE PHARISEES
But once an itinerant preacher passed through our town
and from him I heard a verse which I remember well. The
Scriptures say^ "The Torah was commanded us by Moses,
the inheritance of the community of Jacob’ (Deut. 33.4).
It does not say "the inheritance of the community of Yannai/
but "of Jacob.’ Your learning is not yours at all but mine!”®^
Could it have been to prevent the 'am ha-arez from seiz^
ing such useful crumbs of knowledge that scholars dis-
couraged study in their presence? One of them remarks,
""To study before the ignorant is like violating a man’s
betrothed in his presence.”^®
The hostility which developed between the 'am ha--are%
and the scholar after the destruction of Jerusalem, and
particularly in the third century, throws light on the tend-
encies already at work during the earlier period in which
we are now primarily interested. During the second cen-
tury B.C.E., when the Second Commonwealth was approach-
ing the heyday of its glory, the vicious feelings of hatred
lay, however, in the unborn future. The fundamental social
division in the country was not of learned and unlearned,
but of rich and poor. In Jerusalem which, like most cities,
contained extremes of both wealth and poverty, this distinc-
tion necessarily obscured all others. Only when the people
had lost all their property and become equally destitute,
did the minor distinction of scholarship emerge into notice.
Before that, men were far more ready to be dazzled by gold
than by wise sayings. The 'am ha-arez still looked to the
patricians of the metropolis for guidance in both spiritual
and cultural affairs. He knew their contempt for his sim-
plicity and unsophistication, but he accepted it, desiring
deep in his heart to emulate them. His great hope was
that one day he or his son or his grandson would join the
PALESTINE AND ITS DIVISIONS
37
ranks of the courtiers in Jerusalem. The English squire
of the eighteenth century could not have felt greater awe
for “his lordship” and “her ladyship” than did the Pales-
tinian farmer for the high-priestly nobles of his metropolis.
C. Judea
The 'am ha-arez was not a uniform class. Wide differ-
ences of wealth and culture separated the dwellers of the
highland country from those of the lowland, and the inha-
bitants of Judea from those of Galilee. Left to themselves,
however, these country people would never have developed
any social conflict analogous to that which rent the citi-
zenry of Jerusalem into mutually hostile halves. For while
the extremes of their rural society were far enough apart,
there was no particular point at which the social structure
was especially weak and liable to break. There was a
smooth, imperceptible gradation from the wealthiest far-
mer, with his many acres and herds, to the poorest peasant
whose stony ground barely provided the meanest necessities
of life.
It was only the dominion of Jerusalem over the spirit-
ual life of Judea, similar to that of Athens over Attica,
which transferred into the peaceful, static villages the
bitter conflict which had arisen in the city. While the large
landowners looked to the patrician priests of Jerusalem
for religious guidance, the plebeian farmer, hardly distin-
guishable from the serf, depended upon the humble Levite
and the lay artisan-teacher. Simple, naive and unsophis-
ticated, these peasants, men of the soil, were ready to re-
ceive the imprint of the first teacher who ministered to
them. They were beneath the attention of a priesthood
38
THE PHARISEES
more concerned with Temple ceremonial than with service
to the people. Happy indeed was the farmer if the aristo-
cratic priest accepted his offering; to ask for religious guid-
ance and consolation in return would have been presump-
tuous. It thus came about that, throughout this period,
the small, plebeian farmers followed the rites current among
the merchants and artisans of Jerusalem’s slums, while
the aristocracy of the capital clung to the rural habits
which they had inherited from their ancestors.
This result, inevitable in any event, was intensified by
the peculiar development of Palestinian land-ownership.
From the earliest recorded period onward, it appears that
plebeian farmers occupied the stony, comparatively unpro-
ductive hill-country while the lowlands were held by the
patrician clans. This had been true in the days of the
Judges when the plebeian Israelites who remained loyal
to the traditions of the wilderness, handed down from their
ancestors, inhabited the mountains and plateaus while the
richer farmers of the valleys became assimilated with the
Canaanites.'-®! It was no less true during the Second Com-
monwealth. The lowlands of Jericho and En-gedi, famous
throughout the ancient world for their balsam, their date
palms, their semi-tropical climate, and their general fer-
tility,^®^ as well as the almost equally productive plain of
Ludd, were controlled by the foremost patricians of the
Commonwealth.^®® It was in Jericho that a number of
small farmers — probably the last survivors of impover-
ished families — were compelled to transfer the title of their
estates to the Temple, in order to escape expropriation
by wealthier neighbors.^®^ From Ludd came such rich men
as R. Eliezer ben Hyrcanus and R. Tarfon.’^®' The highlands
were inhabited by a poorer and hardier folk. Even to
PALESTINE AND ITS DIVISIONS
39
this day, the inhabitants of the Judean hills are among
the poorest of the country’s peasants. While the farmers
of the fertile valleys produce enough from the soil to keep
them during the winter and the whole year, the “highland-
ers” are frequently compelled to enter the service of others
during the winter months.^®
So complete was the difference between the two groups
that they considered themselves derived from different
tribes. The “highlanders” claimed descent from Judah,
the lowlanders from Benjamin.^®^ The wealth of these
Benjaminite lowlanders explains the prominence of their
tribe during the Second Commonwealth. The writer of
the Book of Esther, for instance, wishing to describe Mor-
decai as an aristocrat, traces his descent to Benjamin.^®®
The author of Psalm 68 declares that “young Benjamin
there rules them”; and only afterward mentions “the
princes of Judah” (v. 28). At the beginning of the Chris-
tian Era, Paul, the Apostle to the Gentiles, announces
himself as a Benjaminite.^®® A hundred years later, R.
Simeon and R. Meir, the representatives of patricianship
in the School of R. Akiba, ^^® espouse the cause of the Ben-
jamin! tes, and claim that the Temple as well as the grave
of Rachel were within the boundaries of that tribe.^^^ And
finally, about the year 200 C.E., we find R. Judah the Prince,
foremost in his generation both in wealth and learning,
boasting of his descent from that ancient tribe.^^® It is
hardly credible that this tribal separation could have been
preserved had not descent from the tribe of Benjamin
implied social distinction.
It is noteworthy that R. Judah, the representative of the
plebeians in the School of R. Akiba, denies that the Temple
was situated on Benjaminite territory. Loyal to his tribe
40
THE PHARISEES
of Judah, he claims that its eponym, Judah the son of
Jacob, was, alone among the ancestors of the twelve tribes,
buried in the cave of Machpelah.“« This was, of course,
strenuously denied by R. Meir, who declined to grant
Judah any preeminence not specifically accorded him in
Scripture. It is equally illuminating to find R. Meir, the
warm defender of the rights and prestige of the tribe of
Benjamin, also lenient with regard to the festival observ-
ances on the farms. While R. Judah forbids a lowland
farmer to water his Bet ha-Baal during the festival week,
since it presumably can thrive on rain water, R. Meir,
representing doubtless the traditions under which he was
raised, holds that it is permitted.
The accumulated evidence thus points to a social as
well as a cultural conflict between the Judean hill country
and the lowlands. This explains the sustained resistance
of the lowland farmers to the plebeian influence, even after
it had become dominant in the highland.
D. Galilee
As we move northward from Jerusalem across the coun-
try of the Samaritans, we come to the luxuriant plain of Jez-
reel, and rising out of that into the beautiful mountains
of lower and upper Galilee. This fertile land, stretching
back from the plain of Tyre toward the east, bordering
on Phoenicia and Syria, had always remained half pagan.
Isaiah (8.23) had called it the “Galilee of the Gentiles”
and as late as the time of the Maccabees^® its Jewish popu-
lation was a small minority. The early Maccabees con-
quered it and peopled it with men from Judea. We may
take it that, as in other conquests, its lands were divided
PALESTINE AND ITS DIVISIONS
41
among the powerful warrior aristocrats of Jerusalem and
their affiliated squires of the country, the ‘am ha-arez. It
thus became quite common for patricians to own two or
more estates in the various provinces; and, indeed, the
talmudic records refer, without special comment, to men
who had properties in Judea and Galilee, with a wife and
a household in each locality. After the conquest of Titus,
it was possible for some of the “men of Jerusalem” to leave
the southern province and settle permanently in Galilee,
where their holdings lay waiting to receive them.^^'^
The culture of Galilee was, thus, from the beginning
dominated by the patricians of Jerusalem, whose manners
in turn derived largely from those of their ancestors — the
provincials of Judea. But whereas the patricians who
resided in Jerusalem were in the course of generations
somewhat affected by its metropolitan influence, the Gali-
leans remained from the beginning to the end bucolic. The
204 Galilean cities which Josephus mentions"^^® were not
towns in our sense of the word. They were mere hamlets
and villages, like the “cities” which the Talmud describes
as belonging to individual owners. There were, however,
in his time a few larger communities, like Sepphoris and
Tiberias.^®® In these towns there were markets, tradesmen,
artisans, craftsmen, who took care of the technical and
commercial needs of the province. There were also wealthy
men who had moved from their farms to these larger settle-
ments to enjoy the social life of the city. These urban
settlements thus became miniature Jerusalems with their
•own provincial patricians and plebeians. Yet, being far
away from the metropolis, the inhabitants of these towns
naturally followed the customs, rites and institutions of
iheir province. Thus the social conflict which shook the
42
THE PHARISEES
capital and passed from it into Judea did not reach Galilee
for a long time. And when it did arrive, it had lost its origi-
nal form. It was no longer primarily a struggle of the plebe-
ian against a patrician group of customs. The issues had
become doctrinal and political. The plebeians of the north
were unwilling to accept the social habits of Jerusalem, but
they became the devoted followers and ultimately the
most indefatigable missionaries of the plebeian faith and
pacifism.
IIL SOME TYPICAL VARIATIONS OF CUSTOM
At the beginning of the Christian Era, Judea and Galilee
were divided from each other by a number of customs,
most of which were astonishingly unrelated to the geo-
graphic or economic characteristics of the two provinces.
It will be simple to show how all of these started as conflicts
between the rich and poor in Jerusalem and were trans-
ferred from there to the hinterland. The Galilean forms
are invariably what we might expect from metropolitan
patricians of the day whereas the Judean countercustoms
could have arisen only among urban plebeians. The Tal-
mud does state that the ‘"men of Jerusalem’' generally
agreed with the Galileans but we must not infer from this
statement that all the inhabitants of Jerusalem followed
the customs attributed to Galilee. Such a condition would
be altogether inexplicable in view of the social configura-
tion of the country. The record becomes intelligible only
when we consider the fact that ancient texts, like modern
writers on fashion, speak of a city as though it contained
nothing but elevated classes and that by the “men of Jeru-
salem” our sources actually mean the patricians and “soci-
ety” of the day!^
A. Marriage Customs
In a country which recognized plural marriage and
where a man was expected to purchase his wife from her
father, bachelorhood and celibacy were not infrequently
the enforced lot of those who were kept out of the market
43
44
THE PHARISEES
by poverty. Even when there was, so to speak, no com-
petitive bidding and the woman was as anxious as the man
for marriage, the folk-demand for appropriate payment
stood as an impassable wall between them. Just so today,
under totally different conditions, the iron conventions of
the proper home to be set up and the insistence on other
standards of social caste stand in the way of apparently
feasible and sensible marriages. So grievous and wide-
spread was this evil that the saintly writer of the Testa-
ments of the Twelve Patriarchs (ca. 100 B.C.E.) takes cog-
nizance of it and seeks to reconcile the penniless artisan
to celibacy by depicting an ideal prototype for him in Issa-
char, the patient, laboring husbandman, “the strong ass,
crouching between two burdens” (Gen. 49.14) of Jacob’s
blessing. Issachar is made to say, “Therefore when I was
thirty-five years old, I took to myself a wife, for my labor
wore away my strength and I never thought upon pleasure
with women; but, owing to my toil, sleep overcame me.”®
Simeon ben Shattah (ca. 70 B.C.E.) did endeavor to
remedy the evil in part by substituting for the customary
purchase price a nominal marriage token with a note of
indebtedness for the rest, payable at the dissolution of the
marriage through death or divorce. Such a note could be
executed by the poorest, provided the wife accepted it.
Slight as this change seems, it required the consent of the
Sanhedrin, for it involved a complete revolution in Jewish
marriage forms. Hitherto, the bride’s father had executed
the marriage deed, which was in effect a bill of sale, trans-
ferring to the chosen husband the full rights over his daugh-
ter. The change meant that the marriage contract was to
be drawn up by the suitor who, on becoming the husband,
assumed definite legal obligations toward his wife.®
SOME TYPICAL VARIATIONS OF CUSTOM
45
While this ordinance removed an important bar to mar-
riage, it did not meet all the difficulties. The artisan, who
no longer had to pay cash for his wife, still had to find
means to support her and, when there were no prospects,
could as little think of marriage as before. In the talmudic
annals, we meet men like R. Akiba and Ben Azzai who
attained mature age before their economic condition
permitted them to marry. Even in maturity, neither of
these could have taken unto himself a wife, had not the
bride promised to support him.
Yet there were many fathers anxious to give their daugh-
ters in suitable though impecunious marriage and many
women who, living under the paternal roof, would have
preferred the pains of poverty to the solitude of celibacy.
The urge of life was too strong for the inherited custom and
the new fashion developed of taking the husband into the
bride’s house instead of requiring him to set up a house
for himself.^ This change doubtless arose first in the poorer
sections of the city and only then spread to the neighbor-
ing farmlands and Judea’s highland. This expedient seems
simple enough to us. But that is only because for us mar-
riage has become merely a symbolic ceremony. What we
regard as ritual and ceremony was living reality to the
ancients. The man seeking a wife had first to propose to
her father, pay the now nominal purchase money, and
draw up the marriage contract.^ This, however, consti-
tuted merely the ‘'betrothal” {erusim in Hebrew), an option,
as it were, preventing the maid from being married to any-
one else. She still remained with her father’s family till her
husband was ready to receive her. The usual length of a
“betrothal” was a year.® During this time, she was consid-
ered married to her new lord and infidelity was punishable
46
THE PHARISEES
as adultery. She could not be freed without a formal writ
of divorcement and, if the husband died, she automatically
became the betrothed of his oldest brother. However, she
might not live with her husband till he had taken {^asa or
lakaK) her to his house, thus completing the marriage.
Her removal from her father’s to her husband’s house was
the occasion of a nuptial celebration, quite different in
spirit from the purely commercial act of the original be-
trothal. Much hardihood must have been required for
the early Judeans to substitute for the traditional taking
of the wife to the husband’s house the inverse tradition
of accepting the husband into the wife’s family. We may
be sure that it was not done in the “best” families. Where
it was done, the woman was considered still not properly
married; she remained “betrothed” {arusah) until the hus-
band could take her to a home of his own. The law, how-
ever, taking cognizance of the customary facts, says, “He
who eats at his father-in-law’s house in Judea cannot after
marriage charge his wife with loss of virginity, for they
are frequently together in private.”’^
The spread of this habit necessarily made even the most
traditional and respectable relax in their rigor. Hence,
in Judea the betrothed were permitted to remain together
“for a time before they were brought into the nuptial cham-
ber in order that his heart may be attracted to her.” This
was particularly reasonable because both the husband and
the bride were of mature age. In Galilee, however, such
pre-marital privacy was considered unseemly.®
In rich homes and in rural districts the husband’s father
was expected to build a “marriage home” for his son in
which the young couple could live.® For the poor inhabi-
tants of Jerusalem’s crowded slums this was, however, out
SOME TYPICAL VARIATIONS OF CUSTOM
47
of the question, and the newly married couple had to spend
their first nuptial night in the same room with the other
members of the family. Even when a special room was
available for them, they were expected to find place for
the two groomsmen, one chosen from the bride’s family
and the other from the husband’s. In Galilee, this custom
did not prevail and the bridal pair were allowed full privacy
on their wedding night.^" The exhibition of delicacy on the
part of the Galileans is especially remarkable because in
general they were far less modest and refined than the
Judeans.^
B. The Widow’s Rights
It was impossible for a woman of ancient Palestine to
maintain an independent livelihood, except in urban com-
munities. In the country, people could exist only in some
relation to the farm; they were either owners, the children
of owners, slaves, tenants or hired workers. A propertyless
man might indeed wander about the country, seeking to
win his bread, without legal relation to the means of produc-
tion. In biblical times, such persons, half-paupers, half-
itinerant workers, were apparently common. They were
classified as Ger (literally — strangerY^ and corresponded
roughly to the English vagrant or rather to the American
hobo. In the later times, of which we are speaking, the
growing city life of Jerusalem had absorbed most of these
homeless rovers. Still, neither in biblical times nor after-
ward would a woman have been permitted to enjoy even
this wretched form of independence. She had to be wife,
daughter, or slave; she could not cut herself loose from some
relation to a man and a family. When, therefore, in the
rural districts, or among the aristocrats who followed the
48
THE PHARISEES
peasant custom, a man died, his wife (or wives) continued
to live in his home and be supported as before. Hence the
marriage contract of the aristocratic land-owning families
read: “You shall remain in my house and be supported
from my properties as long as you remain a widow in my
house.”
This is recorded in the Mishna as the custom of the “men
of Jerusalem” and the “men of Galilee.”^® The Judean
formula provided for the widow’s support only until the
heirs might choose to pay her the dower, which was fixed
in the marriage contract. This rule was obviously based
on the usage of plebeian Jerusalem, where a woman could
find work and with the two hundred zuz, which constituted
the normal dower of a virgin, even set herself up in some
small business.
C. Praise and Panegyric
To the countryman it seems that the homes and daily
intercourse of the artisans and traders are infected with
the disingenuousness brought from the market place.^^
This contempt of the farmer for the townsman is not alto-
gether undeserved. Urban charm and social grace too
readily degenerate into obsequiousness and duplicity;
what passes for good manners and urbanity sometimes
turns out to be nothing more than the technique of decep-
tion. From the polite to the politic is an easy and almost
imperceptible descent. Both habits have their roots in
the city and in the nature of its merchant life.
The ingenuousness which characterized the farmer class
of ancient Palestine is reflected even in the cautious eulogies
SOME TYPICAL VARIATIONS OF CUSTOM
49
which were part of the funeral rites. It would have been
considered almost as unseemly to exaggerate the virtues
of a dead friend as to expose his faults. Among the city
nobility, as on the farm, words were accepted at something
like their literal worth; to degrade them was as wicked as
to falsify other standards and measurements. Hence we
find stated in the name of R. Judah, “in Jerusalem, only
the merits attained by the deceased were recited at his
bier; but, in Judea [following as usual the custom of the
plebeians] both those virtues which he had and those he
lacked might be attributed to him.”^®
Convincing evidence that the custom attributed to Judea
in our records really had its origin in the market place of
Jerusalem, may be found in the similar disagreement regard-
ing the praise to be bestowed on a bride at her wedding.
The Shammaites, who were admittedly the richer group of
the Pharisees, say, “every bride according to her virtues,’’
but the Hillelites, as free from the bonds of literalness at
weddings as at funerals, say, “every bride may be described
as comely and charming.”^®
The Galilean custom with regard to extravagant eulogies
is not recorded; but we may be certain it was that of Jeru-
salem’s aristocracy. This conjecture is rendered the more
plausible because in other respects the Galileans adopted
the funeral rites of Jerusalem rather than those of the
Judean countryside. In both Galilee and Jerusalem it was
customary, for instance, to recite eulogies before the funeral
at the house of the deceased; in the Judean villages that was
done after the funeral, at the grave. Hence, people of
Jerusalem and Galilee would say, “Attain merit before thy
bier,” while those of Judea said, “Attain merit after thy
bier.”^^
50
THE PHARISEES
The fact that the Galileans accepted this particular
custom of Jerusalem shows how thoroughly they were
dominated by the culture of Jerusalem’s nobility. Their
own needs in this instance definitely coincided with those
of the Judean villages, where cemeteries were located within
easy approach and the funeral services were most naturally
conducted at the grave. It was otherwise in Jerusalem,
where the size of the city and the fear of defilement forced
people to set aside cemeteries at a considerable distance.
Since most friends of a deceased person could not follow
his body to the burial ground, it naturally became customary
to recite the eulogies at the home before the funeral proces-
sion. This reason did not at all apply to the Galilean villages;
and yet they accepted the habit of Jerusalem.^®
The social charm of the plebeians, evident at critical
occasions in life, such as marriages and funerals, was further
exhibited in their observance of the usual amenities of
greeting and discourse even in times of bereavement. The
farmer, unused to conversation in general, could hardly be
expected to rally his wits sufficiently to be conversational
under the stress of overwhelming grief. Hence, the Judean
mourners would readily greet those who came to comfort
them as the guests entered and departed; whereas the
Galileans considered even this modicum of social inter-
course a mark of disrespect to the dead.^®
D. The Paschal Festival
The Passover festival begins on the fifteenth day of the
first Hebrew month (Nisan) and extends until the twenty-
first day. The paschal lamb, which is eaten on the eve of
SOME TYPICAL VARIATIONS OF CUSTOM
51
the first festival day, must be slaughtered during the after-
noon of the fourteenth day of the month. In commemora-
tion of the ancient custom of the wilderness, this day was
generally observed as an additional holiday by abstention
from work.
Jerusalem, however, while acknowledging the sanctity
of the day, could not give it the status of a complete festival.
The influx of pilgrims more than doubled the population
of the city^*® and the needs of the visitors forced artisans
and tradesmen to remain at work.
Thus necessity gave birth to custom and the population
of Jerusalem worked until noon on the fourteenth day. As
usual, the custom spread from Jerusalem’s market to the
whole Judean province so that “in Judea they would
work until noon but in Galilee they would do no work
at all.”
Here, too, we discover that the patrician Shammaites who
had neither shops nor trades agreed with the Galileans,
while the Hillelites of rural Judea showed themselves much
more sympathetic to their fellow plebeians of the city.
The Mishna tells us that “ during the night the Shammaites
prohibit all work while the Hillelites permit it — even in
places where it is prohibited during the day — tiU the rise
of the sun.”^^ These two traditions leave no doubt that
the Hillelites, accepting the inevitable, were willing to permit
work in all places on the night preceding the sacrificial day;
while for Jerusalem’s markets, the indulgence was extended
until the next noon. The patrician Shammaites and the
Galileans, leaning on the full law of festivals, forbade labor
not only during the day but also during the preceding
night.
52
THE PHARISEES
E. The Purity of Olives
The olive, which grows readily almost anywhere in
Palestine, was especially cultivated in Galilee.®^ In crowded
Judea, with its smaller allotments, the soil could not easily
be spared for this extensive form of cultivation. But on
the hill slopes and in the valleys of spacious Galilee, there
was room enough for the wide-spreading roots of the olive
tree. “It is easier,” says a rabbi of the second century,
“to raise a legion of olives in Galilee than a single child in
Judea The olive trees of Gischcala were famed through-
out the land and exaggerated tales of their productivity
are told. The biblical verse, “As for Asher, his bread is
fat and he yields royal dainties”^^ was applied to them.
The olive came to be for Galilee what the vine was for
Judea and the date for Arabia.
So great was the patrician partiality towards Galilee that
this favorite fruit received special consideration in the
Shammaitic legal decisions. The rigorous laws of Levitical
purity on which the Shammaites laid so much stress at
other times were relaxed; as, indeed, they had to be if any
Galilean oil was to be recognized as pure. The Galileans,
living in a land at best semi-Judaized, and so far from the
Sanctuary, had never submitted fully to the biblical laws
concerning Levitical defilement. According to the letter of
the Law, they were all, like the Jews of the diaspora and
like all Jews living today, permanently impure, and what-
ever they touched was defiled. Fortunately, the Law did
not require them to be pure. It merely forbade them to
enter the Temple or partake of holy food in the period of
their impurity. Being in Galilee, they could in any event
do neither, but whenever any one of them planned to
SOME TYPICAL VARIATIONS OF CUSTOM
53
undertake a pilgrimage, he had to prepare himself for
purification.
The impurity of the Galilean became, however, a problem
in its social aspect; whatever food he touched shared his
defilement and could neither be eaten by the pure nor used
for sacrifice.
Wise legislation had mitigated the impracticability of
the law by providing that no fruit could receive defilement
unless it had been moistened since the time of plucking
(Lev. 11.38). The farmer’s problem was then merely to
keep liquid away from his olives or grapes or grain which
could then remain uncontaminated for a long time. But,
whereas he could save his products from water and other
extraneous moisture, how was he to keep their own juices
from breaking through the thin epidermis and exposing
them to impurity? The Galileans solved this problem very
conveniently: they held that the juice of an olive did not
render the fruit liable to pollution.
This arbitrary but economically essential interpre-
tation of the law was held by the Shammaites to apply
to olives but they declined to extend it to other fruits, like
grapes. When Hillel asked Shammai to explain this con-
tradiction, the reply he received was equally illogical and
human: “If you anger me, I shall declare the olives
also impure.”^® The commentators of the Talmud, worried
by this admitted inconsistency, have endeavored in vain
to discover an acceptable legal reason for the Shammaitic
position. None, however, can be found, for the ruling was
based on necessity, not on reason. The Shammaites merely
sanctioned the necessary habits of Galilee, where it was
impossible to procure Levitically pure workers to garner
the olives. They saw no need for extending the principle
54
THE PHARISEES
to wine, the product of Judea, for in the southern province,
within easy reach of Jerusalem and the Temple, Levitically
pure workers could be found for the vintage. Yet even in
Judea the restriction added to the trouble and cost of the
vintage. It need not surprise us therefore to find that the
Hillelites, as sympathetic towards the Judean grape-growers
as the patrician Shammaites were to the Galilean olive
producers, should have maintained that “he who gathers
grapes for the wine-press does not expose them to defile-
ment through their own juice.”*®
F. The Day of Atonement
The tenth of Tishri ended the period of the New Year
celebration not only among the Jews, but among many
other Syrian peoples. But whereas for other nations it
served as an occasion for wild merry-making, with general
wine drinking, and obscene sex-ceremonies, it was for the
Jews a Day of Atonement, of grave and serene contempla-
tion, of mutual forgiveness and reconciliation, of abstinence
from food and drink, from the wearing of sandals, from the
use of ointment, and from marital congress. It was not a
season of grief or sorrow. On the contrary it was a festival,
during which mourning was forbidden. But it was a festival
celebrated “after the manner of the angels,” its joy was
purely spiritual, with nothing sensuous or earthly contam-
inating it.
The lofty aspirations of the Lawgiver and the sages in
fixing the form of this festival could hardly, however, pre-
vent the intrusion of some influence from the surrounding
world. Both in patrician Jerusalem and in provincial
Galilee we find vestiges of the widespread pagan agricultural
SOME TYPICAL VARIATIONS OF CUSTOM
55
vintage festival/^ which marked the day for the neighboring
peoples. Behind the Temple solemnities of ritual and
sacrifice, of self-denial and prayer, R. Simeon ben Gamaliel
II (ca. 170 C.E.)®® reveals to us a chaste, attractive and
wholesome picture of vineyard celebrations and country
dances with maidens breaking through their coyness and
calling on the youths to join them. “There were no days in
Israel more festive than the fifteenth of Ab or the tenth of
Tishri; for then the daughters of Jerusalem, garbed in white
borrowed garments (so as not to embarrass the poor) would
dance in the vineyards. What did they say ? ‘Young man,
lift up thine eyes and see what thou choosest.’ ” The
charm of the invitation seems to have been held in careful
check, for the text continues: “Pay no regard to comeliness;
think rather of the family.”
The scene and its setting are rural. The participants are
the aristocrats of Jerusalem, for pride of family intrudes
incontinently into the picture.®^ The celebration, placed
in vineyards rather than elsewhere, is unmistakably associ-
ated with the vintage, marking its beginning about the
middle of Ab and its end early in Tishri.
Such was the social significance of these festivities that
each vineyard was expected to have a large vacant space
set aside for that express purpose. It was called the mahol
or the dancing-place. Grave scholars disagreed regarding
the necessary size of the mahol., with the patrician Sham-
maites allowing a plot 24 cubits (48 feet square) while the
plebeian Hillelites were satisfied with about one-half that
area.®“
Perhaps the graver festivity arranged by the High Priest
for his friends after completing the service at the Temple
on the Day of Atonement had some kinship with these
56
THE PHARISEES
jollities. The Talmud supposes that the High Priest rejoiced
merely in “having come forth from the sanctuary in peace.”»i
Yet the solemnity of the day would seem to make actual
festivities out of place. We can only assume that in the
patrician minds and hearts of the High Priest and his friends
there lurked vague memories of earlier rural times when
the religious fast was combined with agricultural festivity.
To the patricians of Jerusalem, the momentary reversion
to rural type and the release from daily conventions were
attractive enough, even without food or drink, which were
forbidden because of the public fast. In Galilee, however,
the combination of fasting and festivity was inconceivable.
“There is no joy except in meat,” a sage who was akin to
the provincials remarked.®** Since banqueting on the Day
of Atonement was impossible, the Galileans took pleasure
and penance in turn. They feasted on the ninth of Tishri
and fasted on the tenth.
The custom spread from Galilee to Babylonia, where
huge banquets were arranged for the ninth of Tishri.®* Even
in our own time, observant Jews mark the day with a special
holiday dinner. The origin of the custom has long been
forgotten; and it is generally explained that the additional
food is intended as a preparation for the next day’s fast.
But this interpretation is utterly unacceptable. Had the
dinners on the ninth of Tishri been merely prophylactic,
they would have been as customary in Judea as in Galilee.
Yet the Mishna explicitly states that the custom was known
only in Galilee.®* Furthermore, the sages, in several genera-
tions, had to warn the people to stop their feasting well
before dark, lest they violate the Day of Atonement.®®
Indeed the Torah itself, as if cognizant of the possible infrac-
tion of the Fast, stresses the fact that the Day of Atonement
SOME TYPICAL VARIATION'S OF CUSTOM
57
begins at nightfall. “In the ninth day of the month at even,
from even unto even, shall ye keep your Sabbath” (Lev.
23.32). Since all Je-wish festivals begin at dusk, this unique
reminder must have some special purpose: apparently it is
intended to offset the temptation to engage in agricultural
frivolity into the night of the ninth of Tishri.
It is quite inconceivable that such heavy banquets ■would
be nothing more than a preparation for the fast day. It
would be far more natural for the day preceding the great
Fast of Atonement to reflect something of the morrow’s
solemnity and spiritual concentration. An additional
course or two at the final meal might be forgiven; but the
origin of the general feasting must be sought in the celebra-
tion from which arose also the primitive vineyard pagean-
try of patrician Jerusalem.
The superlative genius of the talmudic sages as religious
guides and teachers enabled them to transform the ninth
of Tishri from a day of mere frivolity into one of charity
to the poor, confession before God, and mutual forgiveness
and reconciliation among men.®* The custom of banqueting
was retained; and yet the day was covered with a solemnity
hardly inferior to that of the Day of Atonement. Before
entering on the meal, the Jew was required to recite the
confession of his sins, in the afternoon prayer; and the
gravity of this service carried over to the feast itself. “The
confession,” reads an ancient record, “should properly take
place at dusk (immediately before the beginning of the Day
of Atonement), but the sages commanded that one should
confess before one eats, lest the meal confuse one’s mind.”®^
No child could fail to be deeply moved when, the meal over,
he heard his father, still under the influence of the solemn
afternoon prayer with its confession, reciting, in a low voice.
58
THE PHARISEES
the Grace after Meat. The words, “Blessed art Thou, O
Lord, our God, who dost feed the whole world with good-
ness, with graciousness, with lovingkindness and with
mercy,” repeated so frequently throughout the year, as-
sumed a new meaning on the eve of the Day of Atonement.
Few eyes remained dry as these words were spoken; few
hearts could escape the sense of complete dependence on
God and of the common hope and fate of all mankind, and
indeed all creation, which the simple phrases conveyed.
It became literally true that “he who ate and drank on the
ninth of Tishri received as much spiritual elevation as if
he had fasted on both the ninth and tenth days.”**
G. Eating the Meat or Fowl with Milk
Biblical Law, as is well known, prohibits the seething
of a kid in its mother’s milk.®* Maimonides was the first
to suggest that the reason for this prohibition was the
desire of the Scriptures to suppress a Canaanite custom
which made the seething of the animal in its mother’s milk
a religious ceremony, based, doubtless, on the superstition
that this improved the fertility or milk-producing powers
of the mother.**® Maimonides’ hypothesis, which twenty-
five years ago was rejected as preposterous by so eminent
an authority as Sir James Frazer,** has recently been most
remarkably vindicated by the discovery of the Ras es-
Shamra inscriptions, which for the first time actually record
the Canaanite practice of seething a kid in its mother’s
milk as part of the worship of the pre-Israelite inhabitants
of Syria.*® So abhorrent was this particular custom to
the teachers of Judaism, that they supplemented the prohi-
bition of the practice by declaring meat of a kid seethed in
SOME TYPICAL VARIATIONS OF CUSTOM
59
its mother’s milk forbidden to eat. Yet the practice, like
other superstitions, persisted among large sections of the
provincials. Fearful of giving offense either to the God of
Israel by seething a kid in its mother’s milk, or to the gods
of the Canaanites by not doing so, the simple provincial
sought escape in a compromise. He seethed the kid in milk,
but not in that which came from its mother. If he was
particularly careful, he would substitute a calf for the kid,
and cow’s milk for that of the goat. But these devices helped
him very little. The interpreters of the Law, alert to the
danger of syncretism, and determined to wipe out the last
vestiges of superstition, would accept no compromise. They
extended the prohibition to include milk of other goats than
the mother of the kid, and finally also to include the meat
and milk of all cattle, and indeed of all mammals.^®
This rule did not, however, end the controversy, for the
provincials resorted to the scheme of cooking the meat of
fowl with milk. The sages of Jerusalem thereupon declared
that the law against seething a kid in its mother’s milk ap-
plies also to winged fowl, though these produced no milk.
The interpretation was accepted in Judea; but half-
pagan Galilee resisted it. Its provincials could not be
induced to yield the last retreat into which they had been
driven, and without which the superstition could not sur-
vive at all. Hence we find that as late as the second cen-
tury C.E., the Galilean sage, R. Jose,^ permits the use of
fowl with milk, although all his colleagues forbid it.^
It is noteworthy that in this instance, too, the Shamma-
ites gave evidence of some sympathy with the Galileans. Al-
though the Shammaites did not actually permit the use of
the milk with the meat of fowl, they considered it permissible
to serve cheese on the same table with fowl, provided the
60
THE PHARISEES
same person did not eat both. But the Hillelites held that
‘‘they could neither be eaten nor served together. The
pertinacity of the sages in tolerating no compromise with re-
gard to the Canaanite custom suggests that their objection
to it had deeper foundations than opposition to superstition
and paganism as such. It is altogether probable, as Philo
suggests,^^ that they saw something particularly repulsive,
cruel and barbarous in seething the offspring of an animal
in the milk of its mother. They recoiled from the thought
of permitting such a custom to survive in any form. So
completely has this interpretation of the Law been accepted
among the Jews, and so great was the influence it has exer-
ted on the Jewish mind that to this day the prohibition
against eating meat with milk is considered binding by all
observant members of the faith; indeed, there are millions
who, having eaten meat at one meal, will not drink milk or
eat butter or cheese until the next meal, at least six hours
later.^®
Any single example of a sympathetic bond between the
aristocracy of Jerusalem and the peasantry of Galilee
might be attributed to chance.^^ The accumulation of these
indications establishes, I believe, a logical relationship.
Similarly an organic rapport is revealed between the arti-
sans and traders of the city and the poorer farmers and
peasants of the Judean table-land; a division which is
highly significant for the development of Pharisaic and
rabbinic thought, as well as for early Christianity.
•k
IV. THE CUSTOMS OF JERICHO
The culture of Jericho like that of Galilee was completely
dominated by the patricians. But whereas the patrician
masters of Galilee were upper-class Pharisees or Sham-
maites, those of Jericho were of the still higher assimila-
tionist nobility. Hence it came about that on a number of
issues the ‘‘men of Jericho'’ rejected the Pharisaic teaching.
Six of these issues are recorded in the Mishna.^
A. The Fourteenth Day of Nisan
As we have seen, the fourteenth day of Nisan was observed
as a full festival in Galilee and among the Shammaites of
Jerusalem; and even the artisans of Jerusalem refrained
from work on it after midday. But the assimilationists
saw no reason for observing the day at all. They had to
submit to outward recognition of those festivals on which
the Scriptures commanded them to rest; but they declined
to abstain from their usual business on a day which was
sanctified by nothing more binding than ancestral custom.
Hence the Mishna records that the men of Jericho “con-
tinued to graft their palm trees throughout the day."
B. The Omission of the Response to the Shema‘
The second custom peculiar to the “men of Jericho"
was the omission of the response to the Shema\ How this
textual variation in the service originated, and why it was
considered sufficiently important for the permanent record
62
THE PHARISEES
of our Mishna, are questions which can be answered only
by reference to earlier history of Jewish worship.
The introduction of the Shema‘ into the Temple service
may be described without extravagance as one of the most
significant events in Jewish ecclesiastical history. It
marked the most important victory within the walls
of the Sanctuary of the adherents of “simple” worship
over the lovers of the costly and the ornate. The battle
between these groups, originating with Israel’s entrance
into Canaan, had been carried on for more than a mil-
lennium. During all that time the prophets had inveighed
against a system of worship which permitted the rich to
approach God more closely than the humble. The teach-
ers of religion^ had tried to substitute prayer for sacrifice,
and as early as the Book of Samuel had declared that
“to obey is better than to make offerings.”® Some of them
had even denounced the sacrificial system, declaring it
unworthy of Israel’s God.'* But whatever might be their
success with the people, they were without authority in the
Temple itself. Supported by the combined influence of
tradition and foreign example, the priests had resisted any
change in the inherited forms. Such, moreover, was their
vested interest in the sacrificial system, that it seemed im-
possible that they should ever be converted to an even
partial acceptance of the plebeian view. Yet the scribe
succeeded where the prophet had failed; and a High Priest
was to lead the movement to supplement the sacrificial
ceremonies with a call to study and the love of God.
The changed attitude of the hierarchy was due entirely
to the influence of Simeon the Righteous (ca. 230 B.C.E.),
the ablest of all the High Priests who presided over the
Second Temple. In him, for the first time in its history, the
THE CUSTOMS OF JERICHO
63
Temple had a governor who believed in the primacy of the
intellect.® “Judaism,” he used to say, “has three bases,
study, ritual, and philanthropy.”® Holding this principle,
and aided by a Great Assembly of priests, patrician leaders,
and plebeian scholars, which he convoked,^ he compelled
the other ecclesiastics to make the reading of the Scriptures
a preliminary to their daily worship.®
The ceremony was conducted each morning in the Chamber
of Hewn Stones, where later in the day the Sanhedrin met
to discuss questions of Jewish law and leadership.® As was
altogether appropriate, the service opened with a benediction
of thanks to God as Creator of Light. This was followed
by the recitation of the Ten Commandments. It was then
that the Shema\ Deuteronomy 6.4-9, was read. Its touching
and mellifluous cadences eflFectually summarized the Jewish
“duties of the heart.” “Hear, 0 Israel: the Lord our God,
the Lord is One. And thou shalt love the Lord thy God,
with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy
might. And these words, which I command thee this day
shall be upon thy heart; and thou shalt teach them diligently
unto thy children, and thou shalt talk of them when thou
sittest in thy house, and when thou walkest by the way, and
when thou liest down, and when thou risest up. And thou
shalt bind them for a sign upon thy hand, and they shall
be for frontlets between thine eyes. And thou shalt write
them upon the door-posts of thy house, and upon thy gates.”
The selection of the passage betrays the hand of the
master thinker, and must probably be attributed to Simeon
himself. The first verse was admirably suited to become,
what Simeon may have intended it to be from the beginning,
a confession of faith in the God of Israel. Nowhere else in
Scripture are the elements of universalism and particularism
64
THE PHARISEES
in the Jewish conception of God expressed so completely or
so forcefullyd“ God is declared to be One, the Ruler of all
mankind, but He is also “our God,” the God of Israel.
No wonder that it became customary to respond to this
verse with the cry, “Blessed be His glorious Name forever
and aye,” as though it were a formal benediction. The
remainder of the passage was equally powerful and effective.
It called on the hearer to “love” God, making religious
observances a matter not merely of habit, but of devotion
and loyalty. And finally, it emphasized in words of unique
force and strength the abiding duty of study and teaching.
Thus the priest was to be reminded daily of the wider signif-
icance of his routine duties, and of his permanent obligation to
be a student and a guide, within the Temple and outside of it.
Once established, this ceremony was inevitably adopted
also by the synagogues. The duty of knowing God and
loving Him, of studying the Torah and teaching it, was too
near the hearts of the synagogue leaders for them to forgo
such an opportunity for stressing it. And especially since
they considered their prayer ritual analogous to the sacrificial
system of the Temple, it seemed quite appropriate that they
should begin their service with the readings used by the
priests. Ultimately the Shema became so popular that every
Jew recited it immediately on rising and before going to
sleep. And when Jesus was asked to name the first of the
commandments he quoted its first verse.^^
In the course of time two other passages were added to
the Shema •. Deuteronomy 11.13-21, and Numbers 15.37-41.
The first passage mentions the phylacteries and the mezuzot^
the second describes the fringes to be worn on four-cornered
garments, and declares that their purpose is to remind the
Jew of the commandments. Since, by this time, the wearing
THE CUSTOMS OF JERICHO
65
of phylacteries and fringed garments during prayer had
become a general custom, the two paragraphs seemed
appropriate supplements to the original service.
It was about the middle of the first century C.E. that
there occurred the first important abbreviation of the service,
the curious excision of the Decalogue. The reason for this
change was the rise of a sect, perhaps that of the Christians,
who maintained that only the Decalogue was revealed by
God to Moses. The synagogue leaders, fearing that the
importance given to the Ten Commandments in the daily
ritual might be cited as evidence for this claim, decided to
omit them. In the Temple, however, the old ritual was
continued unchanged.
Other, purely political, events had had an even deeper
effect on the significance of the service. In the year 63 B.C.E.
Pompey subdued Jerusalem, and forced his way through the
Temple, and into the Holy of Holies. The sight of the
Roman general, fresh from his military victories and lasciv-
ious pollution stepping into the Sacred Chamber, which
even the High Priest durst enter only on the Day of Atone-
ment and after suitable purification, was a fearful shock
to the Jews; his emergence, entirely unharmed, was incred-
ible. Inevitably the event shook the faith of the people.
Yet the mental conflict which ensued led to renewed and
firmer faith. Mordant doubt and misgivings were silenced
by sheer power of will. True, the pagan had entered the
Temple; but what else had Israel deserved? They were a
defiled people, and their sanctuary had suffered the punish-
ment for their sins. But a day would come when God would
arise to punish His enemies for their arrogance, when He
would reveal Himself in all the glory He had promised to
the prophets, and He would establish His kingdom forever.
66
THE PHARISEES
The hope for the Kingdom of God thus ceased to be a
mere eschatological fancy, and became part of the everyday
thought of the pietists. There was all-conquering Rome,
powerful, proud, and apparently irresistible; but behind the
scenes, moving all men like marionettes, was the Mighty
One of Israel.
For the pietists, who developed this new faith, the Shema\
and especially its first verse, assumed an altogether novel
meaning. Its emphatic assertion oflfered them peace of
mind, in the midst of intellectual struggle and sectarian
controversy. “The Lord is our God, the Lord is One,” was
more than an avowal of the transcendence of Israel’s God;
it was a recognition of His sole power. Rome might conquer;
it could only be for the moment. Ultimately the Lord would
prove Himself unique in strength.
The recitation of the Shema'' thus came to be “a confession
of the Kingdom of Heaven.” This new meaning was em-
phasized further by a slight change in the response, which
was now made to read, “Blessed be the Name of His glorious
Kingdom forever and aye.”^**
The new interpretation of the Shema ^ and the changed
response, were entirely satisfactory to the Pharisees, includ-
ing the lower ranks of the hierarchy, who were seeking some
way of giving vent to their protest against Rome’s desecra-
tion of the Temple and subjugation of Israel. But it was
repugnant to the highest nobility, the Herodians and their
satellites, as well as to the foremost of the Sadducees, who
willingly accepted the new regime. True successors to the
Hellenists of pre-Maccabean days, and the assimilationists
of even earlier times, they recoiled from any thought of
resistance to Rome. They readily accepted subservience
to the Italian pagans, which Israel shared with all other
THE CUSTOMS OF JERICHO
67
peoples. They opposed the nationalist movement, no matter
what form it took, whether political, cultural, or theological,
lest it irritate the governing power.
Hence it came about that the “men of Jericho” who
beyond all others were under the influence of these patrician
ideals, “compressed the Shemd‘,'’ omitting the response
which had become customary everywhere else.
C. Cutting the Barley before the Omer.
Jericho, lying thirteen hundred feet below the level of
the Sea, is the warmest part of Palestine, and naturally
produces its crops long before the rest of the country.
Biblical Law, however, forbade the use of the new barley,
which appeared in the spring, before the sixteenth day of
Nisan,^® when the first part of the produce was harvested
as a sacrifice to God. We may imagine how the men of
Jericho, watching their barley ripen, must have been irked
by the rule which prohibited them from eating it. Public
opinion, however, compelled them to submit. But when
the scholars who hailed from the table-land demanded that
they should not even harvest their grain before the sixteenth
day of the month, they refused to yield. “They would cut
and heap up the grain before the Omer (the sacrifice of the
first barley on the sixteenth day).”
D. Their Use of Temple Property
It was probably during one of the periods of turmoil in
the Second Commonwealth — either during the Maccabean
Wars, or the Wars of the Hasmonean Succession, or the
efforts of Herod to win the throne — that the great land-
68
THE PHARISEES
owners of the plain of Jericho undertook to oust their poorer
neighbors from their small holdings. These naturally did
not consist of palm groves, such as the patricians themselves
possessed; but of the less valuable sycamore trees, lying
in the less fruitful country, beyond the tropical, palm tree
zone. Like the robber barons of the early Middle Ages, the
mighty patricians would seize the property they coveted,
compelling the owner to become their tenant, or lose all
rights to his estate. He could appeal to no national author-
ity, for, in the days of discord, the nominal king or High
Priest would not dare to offend the powerful landowners,
lest he drive them to the side of his opponents.
Anticipating the victims of the mediaeval barons who
gave their property to the Church, the small landowners of
Jericho averted ruin by dedicating their property to the
Temple in Jerusalem.
In a sense this surrender of title was merely a form of
insurance against robbery. The former owner remained on
his ancestral soil. He merely lost the official designation of
owner, and had to pay a suitable rent. But these were easy
terms, considering the utter destitution which faced him if
he neglected the arrangement.
In the course of time, the conditions which had led to
the acquisition of these large properties in Jericho by the
Temple were forgotten; and many of the tenant farmers,
recalling their ancestral rights to the soil, resented the
Temple’s demand for rent. Nothing, however, could be
done to release the estates; they belonged to the Temple
in perpetuity. Yet one freedom the tenants allowed them-
selves; they would cut sprigs of their sycamore trees for
replanting, without reference to the Temple ownership.
This was bitterly resented by the authorities in Jerusalem.
THE CUSTOMS OF JERICHO
69
E. Eating Fallen Fruits on the Sabbath
The necessity of standardizing the Law had led the
Hasidean and Pharisaic scholars to include even plucking
fruit under the prohibition against reaping on the Sabbath.
This interpretation was hardly intelligible to the farmer
who drew a clear distinction between the work of reaping
grain or gathering fruit and the pleasure of picking a fig
or a date for his immediate enjoyment. So much was the
norm resented in certain sections of the country that the
disciples of Jesus refused to obey it and when “he went
through the cornfields on the Sabbath day, his disciples
began, as they went, to pluck the ears of corn.”^®
The “men of Jericho” did not dare to violate the Phari-
saic law quite so publicly; but they could not refrain from
eating the fruits which fell from the tree on the Sabbath.
Yet according to the Pharisaic conception of the Law this,
too, was prohibited. Only that could be eaten on the Sab-
bath which was prepared for use when the holy day set in.
Since the fruit was still attached to the tree on Sabbath
eve, it remained prohibited for the entire day, no matter
what happened to it.
F. The Portions Due the Poor from Vegetables
The two most important agricultural gifts commanded
in Scripture are (a) the corners of the field, which must be
left for the poor (Lev. 23.22), and (b) the tithe of the prod-
uce which must be given to the Levite (Num. 18.24).
There was no doubt that every farmer was required to set
aside both types of gift from grainfields and fruit trees.
But throughout the Pharisaic and rabbinic periods there
70
THE PHARISEES
was a difference of opinion regarding the obligation of the
owner of a vegetable patch. The provincials, who resented
the law of tithes generally, vigorously opposed its extension
to the vegetables which are not specifically included under
it in Scripture. Long and intricate arguments were adduced
to show that “herbs” must be tithed; and yet the provin-
cials remained unconvinced.^® Indeed, the sages were in
the end forced to admit that “the tithe of herbs” is only a
rabbinical, and not a biblical, commandment.^^' But, the
provincials asked, when and by what right had the rabbin-
ical decree been issued? “Woe unto you, Pharisees,” cries
Jesus, “for ye tithe mint, and rue, and all manner of herbs,
and pass over judgment and the love of God.”^® The full
bitterness of his irony can be appreciated only when we
recall the discussions on the subject in the Talmud. “You
do what is not commanded,” he seems to say, “and you fail
to perform what is the foundation of all Law.”
On the other hand, the leaders of the Pharisees denied
that there was any obligation to leave the corners of a
green vegetable garden for the poor. The sociological
basis of this interpretation is obvious. Even a small grain
field is big enough to allow some portion to be set aside
for the poor. But the corners of the tiny vegetable gardens
which many of the artisans and traders possessed would
hardly have been sufficient to keep even the poorest.
Furthermore, to allow the poor to come to a small garden
for such herbs as they might choose to gather would involve
disproportionate hardships for the owner. It would be quite
impossible to limit their gleaning to the narrow strip set
aside for them; and the owner would be compelled to watch
the tiny field continuously lest it be destroyed altogether.
We might have expected the Pharisees to face the situation
THE CUSTOMS OF JERICHO
71
frankly, and to declare large vegetable fields, but not small
ones, subject to the law of “corners.” Such a differentia-
tion between rich and poor, in the observance of the Law,
was, however, repugnant to the whole spirit of Pharisaism.
Thus it came about that the Pharisees who insisted that
herbs be tithed for the Levite, freed them from the law
of “corners.”
These objections did not, of course, apply to the law of
tithes. Every Jew was expected to give one-tenth of his
produce to the Levite; and no matter how small the crop
of his field or garden might be, it was reasonable for him
to set aside the due share for the ecclesiastic.
But the Pharisees were not satisfied with declaring the
gardens of vegetables free from the obligation of “corners”;
they maintained that those who separated the “corners”
transgressed the Law. For, they said, the poor, not being
required to give the Levitical tithes from their rightful
gleanings, withheld them in error from those which they
obtained from these “corners.”
One of the wealthy followers of the sages, by the name
of Boion, was once put to considerable expense because of
this controversy regarding the tithes and “corners” of
vegetable fields. He was visiting his charitable but unlet-
tered son, and as he approached the garden, found a group
of poor people loading their carts from the produce of the
“corners.” “My children,” cried the pious Boion, “put
down the vegetables; and I will give you twice as much of
others, which are properly tithed. It is not that I begrudge
these herbs, but the sages said, ‘The corners must not be
separated from vegetable gardens.’
The “men of Jericho,” however, declined to be bound
by this rabbinic ruling. Their large vegetable fields supplied
72
THE PHARISEES
them with far more than their needs; the produce could
not be kept in barns, but had to be disposed of immediately;
there was no market sufficiently near for them to sell the
“herbs.” It seemed to them far preferable to give the
“herbs” to the poor than to waste them; and so they separ-
ated the “corners” from their vegetable gardens. As for
the tithes which so worried the rabbis, the men of Jericho
agreed with the Galileans, that they could not be collected
from herbs.
The customs of Jericho, interesting in themselves, become
especially significant when we realize that they were an
expression of the mentality of the highest aristocracy in
Judah. They reveal the extent of the provincials’ and
patricians’ revolt against plebeian interpretation of the
Law, and incidentally provide a clue to the cultural relation-
ship of the Judaite lowland and the province of Galilee.
V. THE ORIGIN OF THE PHARISEES*
The vagaries of the Galileans and the men of Jericho,
described in the last two chapters, could not lead to perma-
nent schisms in Judaism. The scholar of Jerusalem noted,
and perhaps resented, some of the differences; but he could
not outlaw them. After all, the issues were of minor and
purely local significance. How could the plebeians under-
take to foist on others their funeral ceremonies, or their
forms of marriage contract? They could not deny that their
only authority for their views was the tradition of their
ancestors and teachers; and it was easy to see that the
Galileans and the men of Jericho were entitled to follow the
traditions they had received from their forbears.
But there were other issues between the various groups
of the population which concerned national policy, belief
and practice. Such, for instance, were the dates of the major
festivals, the manner in which the High Priest was to per-
form his functions at the Temple, the laws of inheritance,
and the relations of the Jews to other nations. Differences
regarding these and similar questions had been developing
throughout the fifth, fourth and third centuries B.C.E.
The plebeians, who had constructed a whole philosophical
system regarding these issues, had never made any effort
to compel the adoption of their views. They had patiently
awaited the coming of the Messiah, who, they did not for
a moment doubt, would agree with them and offer super-
natural sanction for their arguments.
Cf. Supplement, pp. 629 iF.
73
74
THE PHARISEES
They might have continued indeterminately to follow
this policy of eschatological hope and momentary inactionj
had not their whole picture of the future been radically
altered through the Maccabean Wars. The successful
battles of Judah the Maccabee against outnumbering
Syrian armies had transformed the Messianic Age from a
distant theological dream into an imminent, practical pos-
sibility. It was obvious that definite decisions concerning
the moot questions of national policy could no longer be
delayed. If a Jewish State was to be created, its foundation
would have to be the plebeian interpretation of the Torah.
It was characteristic of the plebeian scholars, the so-called
Scribes, that they did not at once proceed to create a po-
litical party for the advancement of their views. Instead,
they organized themselves and their followers^ into a Society
for the stricter and more thorough observance of that part
of the Law which was being most widely ignored and flouted
among the provincials — the rules of Levitical purity.
Universal obedience to these regulations seemed to the
plebeians a necessary prerequisite to recognition of Israel
as “a kingdom of priests and a holy nation.”* They cor-
rectly understood that it was this the Lawgiver had in
mind when he associated the laws of purity with approach
to the Temple. It was clear perversion of his intent, and
nothing more than a quibble, to maintain, as the provincials
did, that only those who visited the Temple were required
to be pure.
The choice of this issue as a basis for the plebeian organi-
zation was certainly dictated by no other motives than those
of piety. Yet from a practical point of view, too, no better
selection could have been made. The law of purity was one
which could only be observed on a social and cooperative
THE ORIGIN OF THE PHARISEES
75
basis. The plebeian’s concern regarding his neighbor’s
obedience to this law was thus not purely altruistic. Try
as he might he could not be “pure” in his own home, if
those with whom he dealt neglected the law. Of what use
was it for him to guard his grain zealously against defile-
ment under his roof, if it had probably become contaminated
at the source, while it lay in the farmer’s bin? Was it not
vain and absurd for him to spend care and energy in pre-
serving the purity of his earthenware, if the potter who made
it had corrupted it beyond redemption ?
There were, however, forces even more natural, impelling
the pious trader to seek new adherents to these laws. The
social bars which his observance set up between him and
a large part of the population interfered with his business
unless he could bring the masses to accept his view. Like
the primitive Christian, a century or two later, he had to
make propaganda for his faith in sheer self-defense, to
escape being marooned on an island of truth in a sea of error.
To recognize this human impulse is not to derogate from
the sincerity of these early teachers, any more than it is
hypocritical to profess love because it is part of an external,
impersonal and universal hunger. Trade might grow with
the spread of faith, yet from a materialistic view, renunci-
ation would have been even more profitable. The pietist
observed because he believed; but accepting his belief, he
tried to win others to it.
The new society bore definite resemblances to others
which had been organized, in earlier times, for various social
and philanthropic purposes.® But two characteristics made
it unique. It was probably the first organization to admit
plebeians and patricians on an equal footing; and it was
from the first definitely propagandist. Its emphasis on
76
THE PHARISEES
“purity” necessarily made it a primitive “Consumer’s
League,” for its members were prevented, by their adher-
ence to its platform, from making purchases at the shops
of those suspected of transgressing the Law/
The members of the Society called one another haber,
comrade. The expression “members of the Synagogue”
{bene ha-kenesetY was sometimes used to distinguish the
masses of the Order from their leaders, the scholars or
Scribes {soferim). But the wall between them and the other
Jews gained them, most commonly, the name of “Separat-
ists” (Hebrew, Yerushim\ Aramaic, Perishaia\ Grecized
into Pharisaioi, whence the English, Pharisees). This was
not intended in any derogatory sense; it implied merely
separation from impurity and defilement.
The course of Maccabean history made it inevitable that
this pietist Order should in the end be transformed into a
partisan opposition, whose goal was no longer the education
of the simple, but the defeat of the mighty. Just as the peace-
ful puritans of James I’s day became, with the passing of
time, the Independent Army of Cromwell, so the pietist
Pharisees of 150 B.C.E. gave birth to the bitterly warlike
partisans of King Jannai’s day. But even after Pharisaism
had become a political slogan, it still did not entirely forget
its original aim. As late as the Mishna, compiled three and
a half centuries after the organization of the society, the
term “Pharisee” was still used as the antonym of ‘am ha-
are%. “The clothes of the ‘am ha-arez," we are told, “are
impure for the Pharisee; the clothes of the Pharisee are
impure for those who eat the heave-offering.”* The Pharisees
who declined to trust the provincial, were themselves sus-
pected by the Temple priests, who, in their arrogance, would
not rely on the purity of any layman, no matter how pious.
THE ORIGIN OF THE PHARISEES
77
Another rule declares that “the Pharisee, even in his im-
purity, may not eat with the "am ha-arez,’”^ lest they grow
accustomed to eat together ordinarily.
The original, pietistic character of Pharisaism appeared
most clearly in its rules governing admission and expulsion,
which closely resembled those recorded by Josephus for the
Essenes.® The applicant for admission had to appear before
three members of the Order and to accept as binding on
him the following regulations: (a) not to give his heave-
offerings or tithes to an ‘am ha-are%\ (b) not to prepare his
food together with an ‘am ha-arez\ and (c) to eat his food
in Levi ti cal purity.® The admission of the head of a family
qualified all the other members, including the slaves, pro-
vided he had their assurance to abide by the rules of the
order. Even men of learning, to whom the term ‘am
ha-arez., in its derivative sense, could not possibly be applied,
were subject to this form of initiation.^^ Only a person who
was appointed to the High Court was exempt from it.^®
After admission, the candidate was on trial for a year, during
which time he was, presumably, watched with especial
care.^® Thereafter he was considered a trusted member of
the Order.
One who failed to maintain the standards required was
declared “suspect.” If his guilt was definitely proven, he
might be expelled from the Order by a vote of the Conclave
of Scholars, presumably those who were members of the
Sanhedrin.^^ He was then declared menuddeh (“defiled”)^®
and his status was that of an ordinary ‘am ha-arez. His
former comrades indicated their distrust of him by with-
drawing from his company, lest he defile them. He was not
denominated traitor, renegade, reactionary, or Sadducee;
the Order simply declined to vouch for his “purity.” The
78
THE PHARISEES
social wall raised between him and the loyal members was
not a punishment, it was an inevitable division between
the observant and the non-observant.
Three cases of expulsion from the Order are recorded in
the Talmud; in all of them the defendants were noted
scholars; and in spite of special circumstances which doubt-
less played their part in the decisions reached, the formal
charge in every case was Levitical “impurity.”
The earliest recorded case of expulsion from the Order
was that of Akabiah ben Mahalalel, about the middle of
the first century.^® He held a number of heretical views in
theology, but these were not cited against him. He was
ousted because he refused to accept the opinion of the
majority in regard to the Levitical Law.” The same punish-
ment was visited on another scholar, Eliezer ben Enoch,
“because he made light of the hand-washing before meals.”
The third and greatest teacher to suffer expulsion was R.
Eliezer ben Hyrcanus, a man of singular learning and intel-
lect, as well as of great wealth and high position. His sin,
like that of Akabiah, consisted in his stubborn insistence
on his views, although he was outvoted. The occasion of
the rupture was his declaration that a certain type of stove
was “pure,” although the other sages declared it impure.
The Talmud gives us a vivid and touching portrayal of the
scene of his punishment. His favorite pupil, R. Akiba,
undertook the painful task of bringing him the verdict of
the court, lest another messenger hurt the aged scholar’s
feeling more than necessary. Dressed in black, he ap-
proached his master and sat down at a distance of four
cubits from him. “What is the trouble, Akiba?” R. Eliezer
asked, when he noticed R. Akiba’s clothes of mourning and
his unusual reserve. “I believe that your colleagues are
THE ORIGIN OF THE PHARISEES
79
withdrawing from you/’ R. Akiba said. '‘Whereupon/’ the
narrative continues, "R. Eliezer tore his garments and
took oif his shoes, and sat down on the ground, while his
eyes overflowed with tears.”^®
As late as 170 C.E., the ancient tradition, according to
which expulsion could only follow suspicion of impurity,
was successfully used by R. Meir to save himself from the
wrath of his colleagues. He was unpopular among them
for a number of reasons. Like Akabiah and R. Eliezer,
he had purely personal opinions and traditions to which
he attached great importance. He was a patrician, while
most of the scholars of his day were plebeians. He retained
the friendship of the notorious informer, Elisha ben Abuyah,
whom all the scholars hated for his merciless denunciation
of the Jews to the Romans. And above all, he had led an
insurrection against the quiet and meek head of the acad-
emy, R. Simeon ben Gamaliel. As a result of these cir-
cumstances a movement was initiated to expel him. But
when the matter came up for trial, R. Meir simply said
to his colleagues: “I decline to hear your complaint until
you tell me who can be expelled and for what reasons a
man can be expelled.”^^ Obviously when the rules were
recited, the case against R. Meir collapsed, for he was rigor-
ously observant of the Pharisaic rules of purity.
Out of this institution of Nidduiy there arose in later
times the elaborate system of excommunication which
proved so powerful a weapon in the hands of both the
Synagogue and the Church. Days came when Pharisaism
was no longer a part of the Jewish people, but the whole
of it; and when expulsion from its midst meant absolute
social ostracism. The laws of purity had long become
obsolete and their practice forgotten, but the method of
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THE PHARISEES
expulsion from the community was for that reason all the
more effective; for now, the expelled member was tabu
not only to a small specially observant group, but to all
others as well. Men withdrew from the neighborhood of
the excommunicate as the Pharisees had withdrawn from
the company of the defiled menuddeh, although they were
no longer in any danger of ritual contamination from him
and would have laughed at the suggestion that he was
Levitically impure. But, as frequently, the old ritual had
become the basis for a new custom which had a powerful
influence on the course of events.
When the Pharisees became a political force, the adher-
ents of the ruling Hasmonean dynasty, too, organized to
defend their rights against the protesting plebeians who
were undermining their regime. Since the high-priestly
family claimed descent from Zadok, the first priest of the
Solomonic Temple, their party came to be known as Zad-
dukim (Gr. Saddoukaioi\ Eng. Sadducees). After the reign
of Herod, however, their opponents, deriding the fictitious
claim of the High Priests to Zadokite descent, called the
party “Boethusians.” This was as much as to say, “You
are defenders not of the ancient House of Zadok, but of
the House of Simeon ben Boethus” — the ignorant priest
whom Herod had imported from Egypt as the most promis-
ing purchaser of the high-priesthood.^®
The sources permit no doubt that the Sadducees derived
from the wealthiest strata of Jerusalem. As late as the
time of Josephus, after the Pharisees had been in full con-
trol of Jewish life for more than a century, it was still true
that the richest families adhered to their ancestral Saddu-
cism.®^ The Pharisees had been able to win over to formal
allegiance most of the upper middle class and some of the
THE ORIGIN OF THE PHARISEES
81
patricians; but the highest aristocracy resisted them to
the last.
That each party had its center and focus in the metrop-
olis is evident from even a superficial study of the history
of the times. The Sadducean influence radiated from the
Temple, the Pharisaic from the market place. Whatever
following the opposing groups might win among the peas-
antry, their formulated philosophy could have arisen only
in the sophisticated environment of the city.
While their urban, aristocratic life inevitably gave the
Sadducees special views, not shared by the farmers on the
land, such is the natural conservatism of religious custom
that they retained, for the most part, the ceremonies and
ritual which had developed among them and their ancestors
before they had been drawn into the city. What is more,
the traditions of the province which continued among the
Sadducean aristocracy were not limited to ceremonial; they
included personal habits, manner of speech, and general
contempt for book-learning. The crudity, vulgarity, and
boorishness of the primitive farm were shed almost as
slowly as particular forms of worship. These aspects of the
controversy between Pharisee and Sadducee have been
astonishingly overlooked, and must be treated in a special
chapter.
VI. THE URBANITY OF THE PHARISEES
While the Pharisees, according to Josephus, were “affec-
tionate to one another and cultivated harmonious relations
with the community,” the Sadducees “were rather boorish
in their behavior even among themselves, and in their inter-
course with their comrades were as rude as to aliens.”'
In his Antiquities^ Josephus softens this indictment, saying
that the Sadducees “ think it an instance of virtue to dispute
with those teachers of philosophy whom they frequent.”
The Pharisees, on the other hand, “pay respect to such as
are advanced in years nor are they so bold as to contradict
them in anything which they have introduced.”^
We need not suppose that Josephus pays these compli-
ments to the Pharisees because he is one of them, and
maligns the Sadducees because he is opposed to them.
Though officially a Pharisee, Josephus was no fervent
partisan. At the time he wrote his books, he had broken as
much with Pharisaism as with Sadducism and led the life
of a hated and despised apostate in Rome. Yet he retained
sufficient affection for his people to wish to paint them all
in fair colors. His description of the Sadducees cannot
therefore be a mere hostile fiction; and even malice itself
derives its force from a coloring of truth. The curious differ-
ence in manner which Josephus notes, is but another instance
of the distinction existing since time immemorial between
urbanity and rusticity. Frequent contact with strangers
trained the city-dweller to soft speech and polished manners,
virtues which the isolated peasant could not emulate easily.
82
THE URBANITY OF THE PHARISEES
83
A cheerful countenance brought custom to the door of the
trader or craftsman but might destroy the authority of the
landowner among his subordinates — his wives, children,
slaves and employees. To the one, social grace was a notable
achievement; to the other, it was sheer hypocrisy.
Following the example of earlier plebeians the Pharisees
carried their tenderness not only into their home-life but
into the courts of justice and were noted for leniency of
their penalties while the Sadducees were distinguished by
their severity.®
The violence and crudity of the aristocratic Sadducees
were clearly an inheritance from earlier provincial sur-
roundings. The picture of the contemporary ""am ha^-arez^
taken from rabbinic literature, may be somewhat over-
drawn but it leaves no doubt that he, like the peasant .of
all time, lacked refinement and culture.^ This fact is con-
firmed by the stories which the sages tell of their own
colleagues who had begun life as provincials. The School
of Shammai, mouthpiece of the wealthy Pharisees, was as
noted for ill manners as the Sadducees themselves. ‘"A man
should always be as meek as Hillel and not as quick-tempered
as Shammai,’’ is one of the pedagogic maxims of the Talmud.®
Hillel himself, having in mind the Shammaitic tendency
to cruel punishments in school, said: ‘'He who is quick-
tempered cannot be a teacher.”®
We learn something about the treatment accorded even
grown-up, mature pupils under Shammaitically-minded
instructors, from the casual statement of R. Johanan ben
Nuri, an overseer in the academy conducted by the patrician
R. Gamaliel II, that “Akiba ben Joseph was flogged more
than five times at my instance because I made complaint
against him.”^ When we bear in mind that the victim of
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THE PHARISEES
this humiliating correction, reserved in the Law for arch-
sinners, was none other than the great saint who as a mature,
married man sacrificed everything for the sake of learning
and in a short time rose to the foremost place in the school,
we can readily imagine the firmer discipline that was exer-
cised over lesser pupils. The copyists of later days would
not credit the tradition and in some versions altered the
text of R. Johanan ben Nuri’s remark.® Still, sufficient
sources record the exact words to leave the facts beyond the
possibility of doubt.
On several occasions, the easily excited Shammaites ac-
tually came to blows in the academy and at meetings of the
Sanhedrin. Hillel, bringing a sacrifice to the Temple on a
festival day in a manner of which they disapproved, barely
escaped violence at their hands.® Several members of their
school grossly insulted a poor colleague, R. Johanan the
Hauranite, because on a visit during the Sukkot festival
they found him in a meager hut which had space only for
his body and not for his table. Without thinking of his
penury and the suffering he underwent to comply with the
Law, they greeted him with the words, “If this is what you
have been doing all your life, you have never fulfilled the
commandment concerning booths!”^®
R. Eliezer ben Hyrcanus, one of the most erudite among
the sages but a descendant of provincials, was noted for
his ill-breeding. He was wont to utter the most lurid curses
against those who disagreed with him. When, for instance,
R. Akiba, his favorite pupil, once refuted him in argument,
he shouted in anger: “From the laws of shehitah (slaughter)
have you refuted me, by shehitah may you find death.”'^
The fearful words haunted his amazed disciples, who doubt-
less saw in the cruel death which R. Akiba suffered many
THE URBANITY OF THE PHARISEES
85
years later, during the Hadrianic persecutions, the grim
realization of his master’s curse.
In a discussion of Temple customs, Simeon the Pious
remarked that on one occasion he had come near the altar
without washing his hands. R. Eliezer leaped at him with
fury. “Who is greater, you or the High Priest?” he thun-
dered. Abashed, poor Simeon held his peace, but R. Eliezer,
once his ire was aroused, was not to be put off. “Are you
ashamed to admit that the High Priest’s dog is better than
you ? I swear that even if the High Priest were to come near
the altar with his hands unwashed, his head would be split
with a log!”“
This temper did not forsake him even on his death-bed.
As he lay in his last illness, his son, Hyrcanus, entered to
relieve him of his phylacteries in honor of the approaching
Sabbath. R. Eliezer scolded him violently. Hyrcanus,
astonished, remarked to those who stood by, “I fear my
father is delirious.” “You and your mother are delirious,”
the enraged dying man called back from his bed.^®
Less uncouth than R. Eliezer but still insensitive to the
pain of others was another patrician colleague, R. Eleazar
ben Azariah. R. Akiba once remarked to him and Ben
Azzai, a poor scholar who had abstained from marital
responsibilities because of his desire to study, that “whoever
spills human blood diminishes, as it were, the Image of
God.” To this Ben Azzai, forgetting his own celibacy,
replied: “Whoever refrains from procreation may likewise
be considered as diminishing the Image of God.” Turning
on him at once, R. Eleazar said: “Good precepts are valuable
in the mouths of those who practice them. There are some
who preach well and do well. Ben Azzai preaches well but
does not do well.” Ben Azzai, humbled and pained, simply
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THE PHARISEES
remarked^ “What shall I do? I desire to study the Torah.
The world must be maintained through others/
R, Tarfon, another wealthy Hillelite with Shammaitic
leanings, never outgrew the rural habit of invoking the
most baleful imprecations upon his children. “May I bury
my children if this is not a perverted tradition he would
cry.^® So greatly did he shock his colleagues with these
words that many years later when R. Judah the Prince
visited R. Tarfon’s city, he asked whether there were “any
descendants left of that saint who used to curse his children/’’^®
The half-Shammaite, R. Gamaliel II, a descendant of
Hillel, had like the other patricians caught the contagion
of speaking his mind without regard to the pain he gave.
Visiting R. Joshua ben Hananya, who lived in a poor hovel,
where he worked at the laborious trade of needle-making,
R, Gamaliel said as he noted the walls black with soot:
“From the walls of your house, one can easily guess your
vocation."’^’'
R. Ishmael, a leader of the patrician school of the second
century C.E., actually raised unsocial behavior to a philos-
ophy. Whereas R. Akiba, spokesman of the plebeians,
taught that one should do “what is upright in the eyes of
God and what is good in the eyes of man,” R. Ishmael said
it was “sufficient to do what is right in the eyes of God;
there is no other good/'^® To this R. Akiba replied, “With
whomsoever men are pleased, God is also pleased; those in
whom men find no delight cannot give delight to God.”^^
Evm patrician women had sharp tongues. Beruriah, the
famous wife of R. Meir and daughter of the wealthy R.
Hanina ben Teradyon, once called a fellow-provincial, R.
Jose^ who was old enough to be her father, “Galilean FooL”^®
Meeting a student who was repeating his lessons without
THE URBANITY OF THE PHARISEES
87
the usual oriental swaying of the body, she kicked him and
said: “If you study with all your two hundred and forty-
eight limbs, you will learn; otherwise, you will always remain
an ignoramus
This bluntness of expression was not at all incompatible
with a fine tenderness which frequently lay concealed
beneath it. The fierce R. Eliezer had a niece who grew up
in his house, and who came to love him so that she would
not marry any other man. R. Eliezer’s mother, who, with
her womanly intuition, saw how matters stood, urged him
to marry the girl, but recognizing their wide differences in
age, R. Eliezer hesitated and continued to propose other
matches for her. Finally, the child, despairing of her uncle’s
ever making any advances, said to him, “I am thy hand-
maid, to wash the feet of thy slaves,” whereupon he took
her to wife.®^
R. Gamaliel II, the haughty president of the academy,
who did not flinch from the most severe disciplinary measures
when he thought them necessary, was observed one day to
be red-eyed with crying. His disciples, making inquiry
about the matter, discovered that a neighboring woman
whose child had died awoke at midnight to weep for her
bereavement, and R. Gamaliel, hearing her voice, could not
restrain his tears of sympathy.®*
His servants, Tabbai and Tabita, who were husband and
wife, received from him the utmost affection. The children
were taught to call them Father Tabbai and Mother Tabita;®^
they were taught the law;®* Tabbai was permitted to wear
the phylacteries during prayer®* and to sleep in a booth
during the Sukkot week,®® like a freeman. When the old
slave died, R. Gamaliel observed the rites of mourning for
him, as for a member of his household. His patrician col-
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THE PHARISEES
leagues, feeling that in this he went too far, remonstrated
with him, saying, “You have taught us, our master, that
one does not observe mourning for slaves.” “That is so,”
R. Gamaliel replied; “but Tabbai was different. He was
a pious slave.”®®
Indeed it was the harsh R. Gamaliel who coined the most
humane and universalist maxim in the whole of rabbinic
literature — one that might deservedly be accepted as basic
to all religion: “He who has mercy on God’s creatures will
obtain mercy from Heaven.”®®
R. Tarfon, who used to curse his children, was yet so
fond of them that he laughingly remarked to his colleagues,
“Be careful of me, because of my daughter-in-law.”®® Once
while he was delivering a public lecture in the open, accord-
ing to Palestinian custom, he was interrupted by the passing
of a bridal procession. Noticing that the bride was poor
and that she was not properly prepared, he asked his mother
and his wife to take her into the house, “and wash her, and
anoint her, and adorn her, and arrange the customary dances
before her until the time comes for her to go to her husband’s
house.” Although he had many slaves and servants, he
tried to please his mother by attending to her wants himself,
and in her old age, would bend down so that she could use
him as a step to ascend to her bed and to descend from it.®^
R. Ishmael, a patrician, who expressed contempt for
social grace, was nevertheless capable of utmost gentleness,
charity and understanding. During the unrest which
occurred in Palestine toward the end of Trajan’s reign
(ca. 115-116), he is said to have supported a number of
families out of his private means.®® Perhaps the most touch-
ing incident related of him, however, concerned his work
as a judge. A young man, who had been betrothed for some
JiHE URBANITY OF THE PHARISEES
89
timCj came before him with his fiancee, saying that he no
longer loved her and could not marry her. Indeed, he had
taken a vow to have nothing to do with her. R. Ishmael
looked at her and noticed that she still bore traces of beauty
which had faded because of poverty. Instead of rendering
a decision, he invited her to his house, where she was prop-
erly fed, protected, and cared for. After a time, he called
her fiance to meet her again. ‘'Is this the woman you have
vowed not to marry?” R. Ishmael asked, when he introduced
them to one another. No wonder that when the sage died,
the mourners took as their text, “Daughters of Israel, cry
for Ishmael.”®^
These actions of love and tenderness were the expressions
of the inner nature of the scholars. They were, however,
as unused to repress their anger or pain as their tenderness
and affection. To use R. Gamaliers phrase, ''They were
from without as from within.”^^
In sharp contrast with the manners of patricians and
provincials were those of the polished city plebeians, who
formed the dominant faction of the Pharisees. A man once
wagered four hundred %uz (about one hundred dollars) that
he would provoke Hillel, the typical Pharisee, to anger.
He waited until the Sabbath eve and, when he thought
Hillel would be most occupied with his preparations for the
holy day, began to walk up and down before his house,
shouting, “Is there anyone here by the name of Hillel?”
Hearing him, Hillel came out and said, “What is it, my son?”
“I have an important question to ask,” said the man. “Ask
it, my son, ask it.” “Why are the Babylonians long-headed?”
“That is indeed an important question,” Hillel replied, and
then, with much more training in human nature than in
anthropology, continued: “Because their midwives are un-
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THE PHARISEES
skilled.” The question was intended to irritate Hillel not
only by its insignificance to a Jewish legalist, but also by its
personal allusion, for Hillel was a native of Babylonia.
Frustrated in his first attempt, the man returned, twice
going back and forth each time with his loud call: “Does
anyone live here by the name of Hillel ?” His second and
third questions were as inconsequential as his first: “Why
are the eyes of the Palmyreans red? Why are the feet of
the Africans broad?” Each time Hillel replied patiently
with some apparently satisfactory explanation. Exasper-
ated at last, the man said to Hillel, “Are you the Hillel
whom they call a prince in Israel? May there be few such
among our people!” “Why, my son?” the scholar asked.
“Because you cost me four hundred zaz!”*'
The same humility was characteristic of the other great
teachers of the school, R. Johanan ben Zakkai, R. Joshua
ben Hananya, and R. Akiba. R. Joshua ben Hananya, for
instance, used to tell how thrice in his life he had been out-
witted, by a woman, a boy and a girl.
Staying at an inn for several days, he had twice neglected
to observe the custom of leaving a little food in his dish for
the hostess. Perhaps his plebeian spirit rebelled against
this unhygienic and humiliating form of “tipping.” On the
third day, however, the resentful hostess filled the food
with salt. He tasted a bit and pushed the plate away.
“Why do you not eat?” she asked with mock innocence.
“I ate earlier in the day,” he prevaricated. “Perhaps, Sir,
you meant to provide additional leavings to make up for
the two previous days,” the bold hostess ventured.
“Walking in an unknown district,” R. Joshua further
relates, “I came to a fork in the road where a child sat
playing. ‘My son, which road shall T take to the city?’
THE URBAKriTY OF THE PHARISEES
91
‘The road to the right/ he replied ‘is long and short; that
to the left is short and long.’ I took the one he called short
and long, but after a few hundred paces discovered it was
an unused road and ended in hedges of vineyards and fields.
When I came back to the fork in the road, I said to the boy,
‘Why did you deceive me?’ ‘I did not,’ he insisted. ‘It is
indeed shorter in distance but longer in time.’ ”
Once R. Joshua came to a well near which a girl was
sitting, and asked her for a drink. She gave him a drink
and offered him one for his ass also. “You are like Rebekah,”
he gallantly remarked. She, apparently well-read in Scrip-
ture, replied instantly, “But you are not at all like Eliezer!”“
Eliezer, it must be remembered, had given Rebekah costly
gifts and a husband, with none of which Joshua had come
provided.
R. Akiba had perhaps the most polished manners of all
the plebeians for, though he had been brought up as a
shepherd boy in uncultured surroundings, he had broken
with his past when he entered the academy. Some traits
of his noble mind have already been indicated. It is note-
worthy that in an age of contempt for women he unhesi-
tatingly proclaimed his indebtedness to his wife for all his
scholarly achievement.®^
No less significant, however, than the urbanity of the
Pharisees was their respect for learning and the pleasure
they derived from it. Talmudic records demonstrate the
truth of Josephus’ praise that the Pharisees were “the most
accurate interpreters of the Law”®® in their day. To appre-
ciate the full meaning of this, we must bear in mind, of course,
that among the Pharisees Law included far more than it
does among us. It covered every aspect of human behavior:
religious ceremonial, the protection of health, the interpre-
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THE PHARISEES
tation of literature, the regulation of the calendar, the
relation of Israel to its neighboring peoples, as well as ethics,
manners and beliefs, and civil and criminal jurisprudence.
The Law determined such questions as whether or not
one might greet a bereaved person, praise a bride extrav-
agantly, or arrange banquets on the ninth of Tishri and
Purim. It regulated one’s diet, one’s dressing habits, and
one’s relations with one’s wife. Scholars debated questions
of theology as well as phases of Law. The doctrines of the
Resurrection and the existence of angels, the wisdom of
seeking proselytes to Judaism, and the policy to be pursued
with relation to the Romans were subjects of discussion in
the Academies of Law.*®
The Law forbade the Jew to use the superstitions^® of
the Canaanites, to believe in “lucky” days, to carry bones
as charms, or to imitate Roman tonsure. He was discouraged
from substituting Greek for Jewish studies; and he was
considered derelict in his duty if he failed to teach his child
the elements of Hebrew language and literature.
Some of the ceremonial observances connected with the
faith, like those regulating Levitical purity, particularly of
women, involved a considerable knowledge of anatomy;
the laws fixing the status of clean and unclean animals, and
forbidding the use of sick animals for food, took the student
into the fields of zoology and animal physiology; the estab-
lishment of the calendar and some aspects of the Sabbath
and festival laws involved a considerable knowledge of
mathematics and astronomy.
This information garnered by the trained “scribes” had
to be handed down, generation by generation, to students
who could spare only part of their time for study. The
necessity for the preservation of the tradition involved the
THE URBANITY OF THE PHARISEES
93
development of pedagogics, as well as skill in elegance and
brevity of expression. The fine, easy flowing, yet marvel-
ously compact style of the Mishna (finally compiled about
200 C.E.) was, like other such literary developments, not
the creation of a single generation. It grew up very slowly
and gradually, through generations of patient effort.
It is thus obvious that what the ancient Jew called the
“Law” really included, in its broadest and truest sense,
everything which his contemporary Greek would have
considered Sophia, or Wisdom : ethics, physics, metaphysics,
history, biology, physiology, medicine, mathematics, astron-
omy, as well as the rudiments of psychology, pedagogics,
logic, and literary form, not to speak of ordinary jurispru-
dence, and the primitive economics and sociology connected
with it. The only difference between Athenian and Jew was
the fact that the Greek generally approached all these
sciences with the question, “What is the real?” whereas the
Jew asked himself, “What is the right?”
Hence Josephus could righdy say of the Pharisees, who
devoted themselves to the study of the Law, that “they
follow the conduct of Reason,” and “observe what it pre-
scribes as good for them,” and “think they ought earnestly
to strive to observe Reason’s dictates in their practice.”'**
An apologist as well as an historian, he is purposely using
Reason instead of Law, so that the Greeks will be able to
follow him; nevertheless the term is not altogether unjus-
tified. Jewish Law, as the Pharisees interpreted it, was
Reason.
It is obvious, however, that not all the Pharisees could
have been Masters of the Law. The scribes, who guided
the Order, were few. Yet the tendency to revere the Law
and to give some time to its study was almost universal.
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THE PHARISEES
Certainly in this, the Pharisees, like their descendants and
followers in the Jewish ghettos of medieval and modern
Europe, were almost a unique phenomenon in history. It
was not merely that so many of them gave their leisure to
study; it was the fact that their intellectual pursuits gave
them such delight, which must impress us. As a predecessor
of the Pharisees, doubtless a plebeian Hasid, perhaps of the
fourth or third centuries B.C.E., puts it:
“This is my comfort in my affliction.
That Thy word hath quickened me” (Ps. 119.50).
“It is good for me that I have been afflicted [he says].
In order that I might learn Thy statutes.” (Ps. 119.71).
“Unless Thy Law had been my delight,
I should then have perished in my affliction” (Ps. 1 19.92).
Suppressed by patricians, persecuted by ecclesiastics and
government officials, without hope of rising out of his poverty
and class degradation, denied all mundane pleasures, con-
fined to a tiny hovel which opened into an equally narrow
court or alley, with little fresh air or sunshine, and hardly
any contact with field, grass or tree, a typical dweller of an
ancient slum, the plebeian worker freed himself from his
heavy chains by rising into the warm, life-giving atmosphere
of the Study of the Torah. No wonder that to him God
came to be revered primarily as the Author of the Torah.
It was with no attempt at hyperbole, that he said:
“Oh, how love I Thy Law !
It is my meditation all the day” (Ps. 119.97).
The child of such a tradition, reading the beautiful poem
in praise of Nature, preserved in Psalm 19, was naturally
THE URBANITY OF THE PHARISEES
95
moved to add to it another psalm, in praise of that which
seemed to him greater than Nature — the Law.
“The precepts of the Lord are right [he says],
Rejoicing the heart . . .
More to be desired are they than gold, yea than much
fine gold;
Sweeter also than honey and the honeycomb” (19.9 ff.).
In their insistence on the primacy of learning the Pharisees
were simply advocating a policy which had been upheld
for centuries in the market place of Jerusalem. The contempt
of the provincial, and the aristocrat who was descended
from him, for book learning^® has already been noted. The
Deuteronomic ideal of the “wise and understanding people”
(4.6) found few adherents among them. It was not they
who were concerned with the obedience and study of the
Law because that “was the wisdom and understanding” of
Israel in the face of all the other nations. It was not they
who put the words of the Torah on their hearts and “med-
itated therein day and night” (Josh. 1.8). Even those
teachers of the Law who arose among the patricians, drew
their following from the plebeian market place. This was
doubtless true in the First Commonwealth when the prophet
proposed to “bind up the testimony, seal the instruction”
among his disciples (Isa. 8.16). But it was even more obvi-
ously true in the Second Commonwealth.
Those patricians who outgrew the provincial contempt
for learning tended to train their children in a system of
Wisdom, which represented prudence rather than ethics,
piety or tradition.'*® It was only rare geniuses among the
patricians, like Simeon the Righteous, Antigonus of Socho,
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THE PHARISEES
and Jeshua ben Sira, who brought into their class some
understanding of the value of Study.
After Pharisaism had become the dominant organization
of the Commonwealth, its own patrician wing displayed
an antagonism to book learning and especially its democrat-
ization, which is deeply reminiscent of the earlier aristocrats
and the Sadducees. They would have limited instruction
to the children of the wealthy and even for this class they
established the principle that “not study is important, but
practice.”^^ “Speak little and do much,”^® was one of the
fundamental principles of Shammai, one of their foremost
leaders. It is certainly significant that while Hillel, R.
Johanan ben Zakkai and R. Akiba, the three greatest
plebeians among the talmudic sages, had huge numbers of
pupils and disciples, their patrician opponents, Shammai,
R. Simeon ben Gamaliel and R. Ishmael, had few or no
students learning under them.
The issue reached a tragic climax during the Hadrianic
persecution when the government forbade the practice of
the Law. The question then arose whether the study of
the Torah was not of sufficient importance to justify viola-
tion of its ceremonial precepts. R. Akiba, loyal to his
faction’s principles, maintained that it was; R. Jose the
Galilean and R. Tarfon, the representatives of the patrician
group, held that Practice was more important.
The debate occurred more than half a century after the
destruction of Jerusalem; yet such was the influence which
the metropolis exerted on the plebeians that they still
adhered to the tradition of Learning, or as Josephus would
have put it. Reason, as the summum bonum, worthy of the
sacrifice not only of life, but of the ceremonies of the Law
themselves. And they carried the day. “The whole Assembly
THE URBANITY OF THE PHARISEES
97
finally cried out, ‘Study is great, for Study alone can lead
to appropriate Practice.’”"*^
This devotion to intellectual pursuits is essentially urban,
as we still indicate by the use of such expressions as “urbane”
and “civilized.” No wonder that because of it the Pharisees
became known as the party of the scribes. Not that all
the Pharisees were scholars; or that the Sadducees were
entirely without men of learning. But the dominant char-
acteristic of Pharisaism was study; that of Sadducism was
contempt for scholarship.
In view of the provincial character of the inhabitants of
Galilee it was quite natural that they should have misinter-
preted both the urbanity and the love of learning which
they rightly associated with Pharisaism. To the blunt and
ingenuous villager, Pharisaic amenity and politeness seemed
mere dissembling and chicanery; and their love of book-
learning nothing more than pedantry.^® He could not
realize that the ease of manner and conversation which was
characteristic of the townsmen, as well as their polish and
self-control, was so much a part of them as to be almost
instinctive. He was as insensitive to the Pharisee’s delight
in abstruse discussions of the Law, as the modern uninitiate
is to the mathematician’s joy in non-Euclidean geometry
and universes of multiple dimensions. The ancient Galilean
was amazed when he discovered the Pharisee spending
hours in a discussion of whether mint and rue ought to be
tithed. Still less could he understand the fervor which
would make such a scribe travel over land and sea to win
a single convert to his teaching.
The accusation of hypocrisy and punctiliousness was not
one against which the Pharisees could defend themselves.
If by hypocrisy was meant their self-control, and by punctil-
98
THE PHARISEES
iousness their insistence on the mastery and observance of
detail in the Law, they were indeed guilty of both. They
were, however, quite innocent of the charges of insincerity,
fanaticism, and false motives which were ascribed to them,
as to the Puritans of a later age. Nevertheless, so frequently
were these calumnies repeated that they affected the minds
of the Pharisees themselves. As their factions parted from
one another, each accused the other of the vices which the
outer world charged against both.
Gamaliel II, one of the leaders of the Shammaites^“ in
his generation, trying to keep the Hillelites out of his
academy, set up a rule that “no one who is different within
from what he appears without may enter the school.”®“
Somewhat earlier a Hillelite writer had spoken of his Sham-
maitic opponents in the following terms: “Treacherous men,
self-pleasers, dissemblers in all their own affairs and lovers
of banquets at every hour of the day, gluttons, gourmands
. . . devourers of the goods [of the poor], saying that they
do so on the ground of justice, but in reality to destroy them;
complaining, deceitful, concealing themselves lest they
should be recognized, impious, filled with lawlessness and
iniquity from sunrise to sunset: saying, ‘We shall have
feastings and luxury, eating and drinking, and we shall
esteem ourselves as princes.’ And though their hands and
their minds touch unclean things, yet their mouth speaks
great things, and they say furthermore, ‘Do not touch
me lest thou shouldst pollute me, in the place where I
stand.’
Certainly none of the excoriations which Jesus uttered
against the whole Order could have exceeded this factional
denunciation in bitterness. Yet there can be little doubt
that the passage was written by an observant, loyal Pharisee
THE URBANITY OF THE PHARISEES
99
of the gentler group. Even his gentleness gave way, how-
ever, before the ferocity of the odium theologicumJ"^
As we look back over the centuries which have passed
since Palestine rang with the sounds of these factional and
sectarian conflicts, we can appreciate the significance of
Pharisaism to the world far better than could either its
defenders or its opponents. We see in it a manifestation of
the human spirit, which in part has its parallels in other
peoples and other regions of the globe. And yet it has been
unique in this: it became the foundation for the foremost
intellectual and spiritual structure the world has yet seen.
Western Civilization. We can now realize what the con-
temporary opponent failed to appreciate, that Pharisaism
represented an effort to assert the supremacy of the spiritual
tradition which had its roots in Prophecy, over the decadent,
syncretistic Hellenism, which combined in itself the worst
elements in Greek and Persian civilization. To avoid being
lost in Canaanitic superstition, Persian insobriety, Egyp-
tian licentiousness, and Roman ferocity, which had conquered
Greece itself, the Pharisee determined to hold on with almost
superhuman strength to the traditions of his ancestors. He
succeeded long enough to bring about the partial conversion
of the whole Roman world to his views, and thus to lay the
basis for the rise of both Christendom and Mohammedanism,
the two great moral and intellectual energies of the later
world. From the perspective of these achievements, the
conflicts which raged about Pharisaism can be assayed with
cool impartiality.
Viewed in this light, the struggle between the Pharisees and
their opponents, as well as that among the factions in their
own midst, was essential to these achievements. The accusa-
tions of the sects, parties, and smaller groups against one
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THE PHARISEES
another were, as usual in polemics, replete with exaggera-
tions and perversions of fact. The Galileans were not mere
gluttons; the Pharisees were no sanctimonious hypocrites;
the Shammaites were more than quick-tempered peasants;
and the Hillelites more than subtle thinkers and teachers.
The quarrels between them, however, led to critical self-
examination and purification, which were essential to the
usefulness of the whole system to the world. The descend-
ants of those who accused the Pharisees of being so energetic
in their efforts at conversion became themselves the world’s
foremost religious missionaries; the subtleties of the rabbin-
ical academies became the logic of medieval scholasticism;
and the doctrines of purity, simplicity, human brotherhood
and Divine Fatherhood, which were inherent in Pharisaism,
have become an integral part of all civilized human thought.
VII. THE SOCIAL BACKGROUND OF THE
PHARISAIC LEGISLATION
To their contemporaries, the difference in manner between
the Pharisees and the Sadducees was less important than
their legal controversies. Probably most of these have been
forgotten; and of those which have been recorded, not all
are entirely understood.^ Yet the material which has been
preserved is quite sufficient for a sociological analysis of the
two systems. Both are revealed to us as vital, powerful
forces, created to defend opposing interests. Neither sect
determined its views by such artificial and spurious principles
as ^literaF’ and '‘liberar" interpretation of Scripture. They
both were ready to adhere to the letter of the Law or to
depart from it as best suited the needs of their following.
Indeed, they would have considered themselves false to the
needs of their groups had they acted otherwise. It happened,
indeed, that the plebeians seeking new rights had more
frequent occasion to adopt novel interpretations of the
inherited law than their opponents who were merely trying
to preserve what they had. But even in these instances,
their liberal interpretation was a result of their view, not
its cause. And, it must be added, that with respect to the
recorded controversies, the literal meaning of the Bible
supports the Pharisaic views more frequently than those of
the Sadducees. This does not, of course, mean that the
Sadducees adopted new and revolutionary opinions. It
merely indicates that many of the controversies antedate
by centuries the origin of the two sects; and that the plebeian
101
102
THE PHARISEES
predecessors of the Pharisees frequently intruded their
views into Scripture itself. This did not, however, prevent
the Sadducees from continuing in their ancestral ways,
for, like the Pharisees, there were those among them who
were not so much interested in agreeing with Scripture as in
having Scripture agree with them.
A. The Sukkot Festival*
Both Josephus and the Talmud record the heated con-
troversy between Pharisees and Sadducees in regard to the
Sukkot (feast of tabernacles) ritual. The Pharisees marked
this festival with several ceremonies admittedly not found
in the Bible but which they held essential. Chief among
these was the water-libation poured on the altar on each of
the seven festival days. They also formed a procession
about the altar each day carrying in their hands the citron
and a cluster of palm, myrtle and willow branches. On the
seventh day, they marched around the altar seven times,
willow branch in hand, crying “Hosanna.” After the proces-
sion, the willow branches were beaten against the floor of
the Temple until their leaves fell off. Each night the Temple
courts were the scene of almost riotous celebration. “Saints
and pious men danced before them, carrying burning torches
in their hands and chanting songs and psalms while the
Levites played the harp, the flute, the cymbals, the trumpets
and other instruments without number.” So many torches
were lit that “there was not a court in Jerusalem which
remained without illumination from the light of the water-
drawing celebration.”^
To such an extent were ordinary conventions thrown over,
that on one occasion R. Simeon ben Gamaliel I, the head
Cf. Supplement, pp. 700-708.
SOCIAL BACKGROUlsTD OF PHARISAIC LEGISLATION 103
of the Pharisees, danced around before the crowd in the
Temple throwing eight torches into the air one after another
and catching them before any could fall to the ground.
R. Joshua ben Hananya, who was a young man in the
last days of the Temple, told how he had practically no
sleep during the festival week, for the wild celebrations
lasted throughout the night until it was time to prepare for
the morning sacrifice.®
All of these customs were opposed by the Sadducees who
were, however, unable to suppress them. Their sect showed
its opposition by forbidding them whenever it could find
a reasonable pretext for doing so. Thus it objected to
these ceremonies being conducted on the Sabbath.
As early a sage as R. Akiba associated these rites with the
doctrine that Sukkot is a period of judgment for rain.^
But how did the ritual become an occasion for a sectarian
controversy.^ The answer to this question is to be sought
in the biblical origins of the Sukkot festival.
The most popular as well as the most celebrated of all
ancient Jewish festivals was that of the ingathering. Both
in Scripture and in Talmud, it is called the Pilgrimage, par
excellence.^ The spring festival, Passover, was indeed a
notable occasion, as was also the celebration of the wheat
harvest (Pentecost). Neither of these, however, yielded
so much joy as the autumn holiday which marked the end
of the vintage as well as the gathering of the grain into
storehouses. The joy of life, which had been accumulating
throughout the summer, suddenly burst forth in unre-
strained hilarity. The huts and bowers, erected during the
busy season of vintage and ingathering as protection against
the hot sun by day and the chill air by night, remained for
the wild merriment of the ensuing festival. Such were the
104
THE PHARISEES
sweet and fragrant memories attached to it that the aged
farmer, although long retired from field work, would join
with the younger people in draining the final drops of this
autumnal happiness. Even after he settled in the city, the
landowner did not at this time of the year reconcile himself
to the artificiality of civilization, and his heart turned
continually to the booths of the ingathering. The formal
visit to the Temple and the heavy meat of the sacrifice
were no substitutes for the happy freedom of the fragrant
booth. Many a city patrician doubtless spent the festival
on his farm, reaping in joy although he had not sown in
tears. Others, as greedy for pleasure but more averse to
toil, retained the celebration, even if not at the scene of
the ingathering. They erected rustic booths in their urban
gardens where they could enjoy the memories of the vintage
while they left its pains and labors to brawnier hands.
The Bible does not describe this development but implies
it in the parallel regulations for the festival. The Book of
the Covenant calls it “the feast of ingathering, at the end
of the year, when thou gatherest in thy labours out of the
field” (Ex. 23.16). A kindred passage speaks even more
simply of “the feast of ingathering at the turn of the year”
(ibid. 34.22). In both verses, obviously addressed to peas-
ants and farmers, the Legislator takes the booths for granted
and says nothing about them. But Deuteronomy, the code
which primarily concerns itself with Jerusalem and its
interests,® ordains that “thou shalt keep the feast of taber-
nacles seven days, after thou hast gathered in from thy
threshing-floor and from thy winepress” (16.13). The
passage not only commands the erection of the booths; it
makes them the central feature of the festival observance,
for in urban life the booths were not taken for granted as
SOCIAL BACKGROUND OF PHARISAIC LEGISLATION 105
part of the harvest. On the contrary, they seemed bizarre
and out-of-place — a religious symbol, which attracted atten-
tion to the holiday for which they were built.
An historical reason for the festival is supplied in the
Book of Leviticus. We are there told that the booths com-
memorate the divine protection under which Israel wan-
dered in the wilderness. “All that are home-born in
Israel shall dwell in booths; that your generations may
know that I made the children of Israel to dwell in booths,
when I brought them out of the land of Egypt” (Lev.
23 . 42 ).
Neither the urban patrician nor the rural farmer needed
this historical motive for the festival. For them the feast
of ingathering was its own justification. But the allusion
to booths in the wilderness took the lead in the minds of
the artisans and traders of Jerusalem’s markets and shops
who were remote from the ingathering itself.
Yet the historical reason does not explain why the festival
should have opened on the fifteenth day of the seventh
month, or, for that matter, on any other date. No dramatic
incident was associated with the particular date of the
festival. The child who asked, “Why is today Passover?”
was given his reply in Exodus. If he wanted to know, “Why
do we celebrate Shabuot today?” the Pharisees had their
answer. But if, living in the city and seeing nothing of the
process of ingathering, he wanted to know, “Why is today
Sukkot?” there was no point in the answer, “God provided
booths for us when we were wandering in the wilderness,”
for the booths were presumably used every day of the year.
The Pharisees, with characteristic ingenuity, found an
answer. Sukkot occurs at the season of the ingathering and
about, two or three weeks before the beginning of the rainy
106
THE PHARISEES
season. While the men of Jerusalem did not share the imme-
diate thrill of the ingathering, they eagerly looked forward
to the first rainfall, which was an even more immediate
blessing to them than to the farmers. A drought could
aflrect the peasant only after six or eight months, when the
harvest time came; it brought misery to the poor artisan
of Jerusalem at once. As the autumn equinox approached,
he was watching the skies daily for signs of approaching
rain, which would fill his cisterns, run almost dry through
the long, hot, summer months. If the heavens failed him,
there was indeed no hope. The few springs which bubbled
about the city could hardly begin to meet the needs of its
population. Its governors had struggled for centuries to
improve the water supply; but none had succeeded in
making it adequate. Two thousand years were to pass
before there was the possibility of bringing water by rail
from the more fortunate coastal plain and shejelah^ or to
establish a western system of artificial pumps, aqueducts
and reservoirs. In the third century B.C.E., the most
imaginative did not dream of such inventions.
The patricians were, of course, in far less danger. Their
larger and better built cisterns and pools contained enough
water to meet their needs even in difficult times. If, by
chance, their own supply fell short, they could turn tO'
their neighbors, they could purchase whatever was brought
into the city from outside, or, if all these expedients failed,,
they could retire to their lowland estates until the city’s,
situation improved. But we may imagine with what trem-
bling anxiety the plebeian groups of the metropolis greeted
the autumn festival, which in good years heralded the
first rainfall. Inevitably Sukkot became the occasion of
both hope and fear: hope for the best, and fear of the worst..
SOCIAL BACKGROUND OR PHARISAIC LEGISLATION 107
The mixture of feelings became characteristic of the Phari-
sees’ mode of celebrating the festival.
They adopted the ceremonies of fire and water which
were universally used in the ancient world to stimulate the
rain. They did not think of them as magical rites, but
rather as methods of evoking God’s pity and favor; and
they rejoiced in the certainty that their prayers would be
answered.
But it was not the joy of the ingathering of fruits which
filled their hearts; it was the happiness that soon water
would be plentiful. The men of the Sharon and Jezreel
might rejoice in the crops of the past year; the men of
Jerusalem were thinking of the rainfall of the morrow.
We can now see why the Sadducees could find no warrant
for either of these customs in Scripture and opposed them
as foreign innovations. True, they needed water for their
crops, too, but the dominant emotion was at the moment
the joy of the ingathering. Perhaps the high-priestly
families, who were largely Sadducean, objected to the
celebration lest it rival the ceremonial of the Day of Atone-
ment. But more important than such personal consider-
ations was the feeling that the traditional festival should
not be insidiously transformed into an untraditional day
of judgment.
Yet the issue was even broader than this. The water-
libation was favored by the plebeian because it was essem
daily a plebeian offering. The semi-nomadic shepherd
wandering over parched deserts considers water one of God’s
greatest gifts and believes it worthy of being offered in
sacrifice to Him. Indeed an inscription discovered at
Palmyra is dedicated “to the good and merciful God who
drinks no wine.”® When Samuel was about to pray for
108
THE PHARISEES
Israel in Mizpah, they ‘‘drew water, and poured it out before
the Lord, and fasted on that day, and said there: ‘We have
sinned against the Lord’ ” (I Sam, 7.6). When three friends
of David, taking his jest seriously, broke through the camp
of the Philistines and brought him water from the well of
Bethlehem, he could not drink it but “poured it out unto
the Lord” (II Sam. 23.16). Gideon, wishing to make a sacri»
fice to God, prepared a “kid, and unleavened cakes of an
ephah of meal; the flesh he put in a basket, and he put the
broth into a pot, and brought it out unto him under the tere-
binth, and presented it. And the angel of God said unto him,
‘Take the flesh and the unleavened cakes, and lay them
upon this rock, and pour out the broth.’ And he did so”
(Judg. 6.19). We cannot suppose that the angel ordered
the broth poured out in contempt. On the contrary, it was
a libation which God accepted as He did the flesh and
cakes which were burned by the fire from the rock.^
Even the four pitchers of water which Elijah poured over
the sacrifice and the wood on Mount Carmel (I Kings
18.34) may not have been intended, as is generally supposed,
to enhance the miracle of the divine fire. After all, it is
as much of a marvel that a small fire should come from
Heaven as a mighty conflagration. But Elijah was will-
fully pursuing his desert ritual, offering to his God a libation
of water and dramatically demonstrating to the assembled
multitude that God preferred it to the wine of the rural
grape-growers.^®
The issue between water and wine which continued
throughout the First and Second Commonwealths was not
limited to the question of sacrifice. The plebeian water-
Irinker considered it a symptom of moral deterioration for
Moah to plant a vineyard and, becoming drunk, to expose
SOCIAL BACKGROUND OF PHARISAIC LEGISLATION 109
himself to shame (Gen. 9.20). Jeremiah (35.6) deemed the
Rechabites above praise because they rejected wine and
clung to water. Long before him, Amos (2.12) had com-
plained of the Israelites who gave the '‘Nazirites wine to
drink.” From the beginning of Jewish history to the end,
the holy man desisted from wine. The plebeian Israelites
did not, indeed, like the Nabataeans whom Diodorus
describes, make the drinking of wine a capital crime but
they considered abstinence characteristic of the holy man.
During the Second Commonwealth, the Water Drinkers
formed a significant sect,^^ and the poor, saintly R. Judah
tells us that the four cups which, in accordance with custom,
he drank on Passover night gave him a headache which
lasted until the autumn.^® On the other hand, the patrician
High Priest, Simeon the Righteous, regarded withdrawal
from wine a sin and therefore declined to partake of the
sacrifice brought by a Nazirite.^^ Much later, R. Simeon
ben Johai and R. Eleazar ha-Kappar, both patrician teachers
of the second century, held that those who abstain from wine
commit a sin and would have to answer for the dereliction
on the day of judgment^®
These varied and conflicting opinions merely demonstrate
the truism that the rural and patrician teachers, like their
less educated followers, loved wine and respected its use,
while the plebeian moralists tended to make a virtue out
of necessity, and living in a community which could not
aflFord intoxicants, held them to be evil.
The objection to water-libations was thus not merely
theoretical; it had intense practical significance for the
aristocrats and the Sadducees. To pour water to God was
like giving Him a blemished animal. It was nothing short
of an aflFront for which the direst vengeance might be
no
THE PHARISEES
exacted. The plebeian with his opposing traditions con-
sidered the libation satisfactory and acceptable, and espec-
ially appropriate when he was praying for rain.
With these facts in mind, we can understand the chagrin
of the men of Jerusalem when Alexander Jannaeus, deriding
their custom of water-pouring, spilt the water not on the
altar but on his feet. No wonder the populace, parched
with summer’s thirst, anxious for the winter rains, were
angered beyond measure and, forgetting the respect due to
their priest and king, forgetting their debt to the house of
the Hasmoneans, pelted him with the citrons which they
had brought in celebration of the festival.^* A mere devi-
ation from ritual and even an offensive gesture directed at
their prejudices could hardly have justified what was
tantamount to a rebellion. The incident is most easily
understood when we realize what the rain, and because of
it the water-pouring, meant to the Jews of Jerusalem. To
conform to a prejudice of his sect, the King was apparently
prepared to sacrifice their most urgent need — water. Small
wonder that their resentment almost broke all bounds.
The later rabbis, whose sense of loyalty to the monarchy
was strong and who lived in other parts of Palestine, could
hardly believe that Jews would treat their King with
indignity. They therefore tell the story, but change the
central figure to an anonymous Sadducean High Priest.
It is Josephus who has kept a record of the identity of
the High Priest, King Alexander Jannaeus.
This explanation of the controversy between the Pharisees
and the Sadducees helps to elucidate a number of other
facts the meaning of which would otherwise be obscure.
The Pharisees inserted in the second benediction of the
Shemoneh ‘Esreh a confession of faith in the resurrection.^'^
SOCIAL BACKGROUND OF PHARISAIC LEGISLATION 111
As part of it, they recited in the winter months or, more
precisely, from the day after Sukkot till the first day of
Passover, the praise of God as of “Him who causeth the
wind to blow and the rain to descend.” They did not
mention this attribute in the summer.^®
The variation between the summer formula and that of
the winter is most striking. Note that it is not a prayer
for rain that is omitted. That we might understand. Rain
in the summer might conceivably be harmful. It is the
praise of God as the giver of rain that is omitted; yet God
is the giver of rain at all times, both summer and winter.
No less strange is it that the praise of God as rain-giver
should have been inserted in the second benediction. Why
was it not added to the first benediction which contains the
other praises of God? The second was a controversial
benediction, praising God as the one who would quicken
the dead; the first contained the praises to which all sects
agreed: “Blessed art thou, O Lord, our God and God of
our fathers, God of Abraham, God of Isaac, and God of
Jacob, the most high God, possessor of heaven and earth.”
It was there if anywhere that one would expect the addi-
tional glorification of God, “He who causeth the wind to
blow and maketh the rain to descend.” The second bene-
diction reads merely: “Thou art mighty, feedest the living,
quickenest the dead; blessed art thou, O Lord, who quicken-
est the dead.” What is the relation of rain-giving to the
resurrection? Did the Sadducees who denied the resur-
rection also deny that God was the rain-giver?
These difficulties disappear in view of what has been
said. The Sadducees admitted that God caused the rain to
descend. That is well attested in Scripture. They objected
to the Pharisaic association of rain-giving with Sukkot.
112
THE PHARISEES
The Pharisees, in order to stress their view, inserted in the
second benediction, which they had established, a state-
ment that God gave rain, but they recited it only from
the day after Sukkot till Passover. This was an implied
declaration that on Sukkot God decides whether He will
give rain or not. To this doctrine the Sadducees made
vigorous objection. The addition of the attribute, “who
causeth the wind to blow and the rain to descend,” occurred
to the Pharisees only as part of their controversy with the
Sadducees. It could not well be added to the first bene-
diction, which had long been established, but was inserted
in the second, the controversial paragraph.
It is important to note that in the closing chapters of
Zechariah, which were probably composed in Jerusalem
about half a century before the rise of the Pharisaic group as
a definite sect, Sukkot is already intimately connected with
the rain. “And it shall come to pass,” we are told, “that every
one that is left of all the nations that came against Jerusalem
shall go up from year to year to worship the King, the
Lord of hosts, and to keep the feast of tabernacles. And
it shall be, that whoso of the families of the earth goeth
not up unto Jerusalem to worship the King, the Lord of
hosts, upon them there shall be no rain . . . This shall be
the punishment of Egypt, and the punishment of all nations
that go not up to keep the feast of tabernacles” (Zech.
14.16-19). The association of Sukkot with rain is thus less
a Pharisaic than a Jerusalemite doctrine and its acceptance
by the Pharisees points to their origin as a Jerusalem
party.
There is a trace of this controversy in the Book of Chron-
icles, a century before Deutero-Zechariah. The Chronicler
retells the story of David who poured out the water brought
SOCIAL BACKGROUND OF PHARISAIC LEGISLATION 113
to him by friends, and changes the verb slightly so as to
make it signify “poured it out unto the Lord” as a libation
(I Chron. 11 . 18 ). This modification can have only one
purpose: to stress the antiquity of water-libations and thus
to justify the plebeian contention in this regard. Since
Sukkot was the only festival about whose offerings there
ever arose a controversy of this nature, the Chronicler is
obviously here giving his support to the predecessors of
Pharisaism. It is characteristic of his day that this agreement
should be expressed by innuendo rather than directly, and
implied in a story rather than commanded.
The transformation of Sukkot from a festival of in-
gathering into a period of judgment influenced the Pharisaic
interpretation of the other festivals, Pesah (Passover) and
Shabuot (Feast of Weeks). In the course of time, Pharisaic
theology developed the theory that there are “four seasons
when the world is judged: on Passover with regard to the
crops; on Shabuot with regard to the fruit of the trees; on
Rosh ha-Shanah all creatures pass before God as in a regi-
ment; and on Sukkot they are judged regarding rainfall.
This doctrine of four periods of judgment in the year is not
an invention of the tannaim\ it is of early Pharisaic origin.
It can be traced back to the Book of Jubilees. The writer of
that work, in his anxiety to please both Sadducees and
Pharisees, offers a compromise between the views of the two
schools and suggests that there are four days of judgment.
According to him, these are not the great festivals but
rather the first days of the first, fourth, seventh and tenth
months.^® Obviously, this is intended to satisfy the Pharisees
by granting them four days of judgment and the Sadducees
by making the four days not the festivals, as the Pharisees
taught, but the first days of each quarter of the year.
114
THE PHARISEES
The Pharisaic influence is clear in the suggestion that the
four days be called ‘‘days of remembrance/’ The expression
“days of remembrance” does not occur in Scripture but is
regularly used in the liturgy for Rosh ha-Shanah. What
was more likely to suggest to the reader that the four days
are to take the place of the four “periods of judgment”
than to call them “days of remembrance”? There is no
other reason why the writer of the Book of Jubilees should
have proposed four days of remembrance rather than one,
and attached such importance to them.
Another passage in the Book of Jubilees may be associ-
ated with this controversy. Abraham, we are told, sat up
“through the night of the new moon of the seventh month
to observe the stars from the evening till the morning in
order to see what would be the character of the year in
regard to rains. In this type of book, incidents are not
invented except with a particular purpose. This story
seems intended to tell us that the year’s rainfall is deter-
mined on Rosh ha-Shanah rather than on Sukkot.
At any rate, there is evidence in what has been said of a
profound disagreement between Pharisees and Sadducees in
regard to the meaning of Sukkot. For the Pharisees it was
the season of sacrifice, prayer and water-rites; for the
Sadducees it was the feast of ingathering and nothing
more.
But, the reader will ask, did the farmers not need rain?
Why then should the Sadducees who stood in such close
relations with them, object to a rain ceremony? The answer
is not far to seek. The Sadducees, taught by their priestly
leaders, looked primarily to the service of the Day of
Atonement for the year’s blessings. They believed that if
the service of the Day of Atonement was properly carried
SOCIAL BACKGROUN-D OF PHARISAIC LEGISLATION 115
through, God would grant all His blessings to His people.
They approached the Sukkot festival full of joy at the
season of ingathering and strong in their faith that on the
Day of Atonement the High Priest had won for them
blessings for the year. They could not share the feeling
with which the parched population of Jerusalem approached
the festival that was the forerunner of the blessed rains.
Hence they opposed the innovation.
B. The Date of Shabuot*
One of the most famous sectarian controversies is con-
cerned with the date of Shabuot (Pentecost). The Pharisees
observed Shabuot on the fiftieth day after the first day of
Passover; the Sadducees on the seventh Sunday after the
Passover week. Since all agreed that biblical law fixed the
festival for the fiftieth day after the sacrifice of the first
sheaf of barley cut from the fields, there was a correspond-
ing disagreement as to the time of that offering. The
Pharisees asserted that it should be made on the second
day of Passover, the Sadducees on the Sunday of the
Passover week.
On the surface, nothing could be more trivial than such
a controversy. The biblical verses in Leviticus which give
the provisions of the law are concededly ambiguous.^^
They provide that the first barley shall be cut and sacri-
ficed on the morrow after the "’"'sabbath^'^ but the word may
mean either the weekly Sabbath or the Passover festival.
But if nothing more were involved in the issue than this,
established custom or scholarly exegesis could certainly
have solved the problem in early times. The difficulty lay
rather in the implications of the date question. The Phari-
* Cf. Supplement, pp. 641-654.
116
THE PHARISEES
sees gave Shabuot a fixed day because, they said, it com-
memorated the Sinaitic theophany which occurred on the
fiftieth day after the Exodus. The Sadducees denied that
the festival had any historical allusion or that the date of
the revelation was known.-®
The identification of Shabuot with the season of Revela-
tion, not mentioned indeed in Scripture, was yet made in
early times. Though the first talmudic sages who refer to
it flourished in the second century C.E., they merely trans-
mitted a much older tradition.®* The oldest portions of the
liturgy know Shabuot as the “day of the giving of our
Torah” and, what is perhaps more important, the Book of
Jubilees, composed early in the Maccabean age, recognizes
the historical background of the festival.®®
Most significant of all, however, is the fact that a passage
in Joshua which, however late, must be pre-Maccabean,
and the Septuagint (ca. 300 B.C.E.) give support to the
Pharisaic teaching. The Book of Joshua clearly fixes the
time when the new grain may be eaten as the second day
of Passover. Speaking of the Israelites who entered Canaan
on the tenth day of the first month, four days before
Passover, it says: “And they did eat of the produce of the
land on the morrow after the passover, unleavened cakes
and parched corn, in the selfsame day. And the manna
ceased on the morrow, after they had eaten of the produce
of the land” (Josh. 5.11).
Moreover, the same interpretation of the passage in
Leviticus is also found in the Septuagint which substitutes
for the phrase, “the morrow of the sabbath,” “the morrow
of the first day of Passover” (Lev. 23.15).
By removing the ambiguity of the passage in Leviticus,
the Septuagint as well as the Book of Joshua adopt the view
SOCIAL BACKGROUND OF PHARISAIC LEGISLATION 117
later pressed so vigorously by the Pharisees, and by implica*-
tion indicate that the controversy regarding the date and
significance of Shabuot had already arisen.^®
Why did the Pharisees and their predecessors attach such
importance to the historical significance of Shabuot?
Because, since they were essentially town plebeians, it had
no meaning for them otherwise. Ezekiel, for instance, who
either did not know or did not accept this explanation of
Shabuot, ignores the festival altogether and omits it from
his calendar.^^
For the farmers of the Maccabean age, Shabuot could
serve as the harvest festival, as it did for their ancestors of
the Davidic and Solomonic days. The joy of the harvest
filled them with the desire for the festival. And the seventh
week after Passover was about the time of the wheat
harvest.
The inhabitant of Jerusalem was not indifferent to the
question of the harvest. But he viewed the harvest from a
distance; he had not ploughed; he had not watched the
stalks; nor had he waited for it. If Shabuot was to have any
significance for him and above all for his children, he had
to find some meaning for it other than its agricultural
associations.
The Pharisaic leaders, scholars and scribes that they were,
had doubtless long wondered why the Sinaitic theophany,
which alone gave meaning to the Exodus, was not celebrated
by any festival. The birth of Israel as a nation was marked
by Passover. Was it possible that the incident which had
established Israel as a divine people would be passed over
in silence?
The Pharisees’ comparative divorce from agriculture and
their interest in the Law thus combined to suggest the
118
THE PHARISEES
association of Shabuot with the revelation on Sinai, j^st as
similar conditions in urban America have practically trans-
formed Thanksgiving Day into an historical festival cele-
brating the landing of the Pilgrim Fathers. But this reinter-
pretation necessarily gave the festival a fixed date. The
Sadducees, with their rural background, could see no reason
for the new tradition. They found no authority for it in
Scripture and denounced it as pure imagination.
C. The Day of Atonement*
From their own point of view, perhaps the most important
and solemn difference between Pharisees and the Sadducees
concerned the ritual of the high-priestly service on the Day
of Atonement. The Law required that on that day the High
Priest should enter the Holy of Holies, the sacred compart-
ment which otherwise remained closed throughout the year.
Within its dark walls, where Solomon had prayed that the
divine Presence might manifest itself, the High Priest
offered incense before the Lord. The controversy centers,
as usual, about what seems at first a most insignificant
detail of the ceremony.
The Sadducees maintained that the fire should be put
upon the incense in the outer hall and that the priest should
enter the mysterious darkness with the sweet-smelling smoke
before him, whereas the Pharisees held, on the contrary,
that the incense had to be kindled in the holy chamber
itself.^®
Such significance did the Pharisees attach to this detail
that when they were in power, they compelled the High
Priest, who was generally a Sadducee, to take an oath that
he would perform the ceremony in accordance with their
* Cf. Supplement, pp. 654-660.
SOCIAL BACKGROUND OF PHARISAIC LEGISLATION 119
ruling.^® The question is, however, how had they developed
an opinion in the matter? This was not a popular custom
like the water-drawing or the observance of Shabuot, in
regard to which different communities were likely to develop
varying ideas. The High Priests had always been patricians
and had presumably worked out a ritual for their own guid-
ance as they understood the biblical commandment. Did
the Pharisees interfere merely for the sake of change and
to display their power?
The Sadducean custom is, as a matter of fact, no less
perplexing than the Pharisaic objection to it, for the simple
reading of the Bible supports the contention of the Pharisees.
In describing the ritual, the Levitical law says: “And he
shall take a censer full of coals of fire from off the altar before
the Lord, and his hands full of sweet incense beaten small,
and bring it within the veil. And he shall put the incense
upon the fire before the Lord” (Lev. 16.12). There is no
ambiguity to the order. The priest brings the fire and the
incense within the veil separately, into the holy compart-
ment and there “puts the incense upon the fire.”®“ Why
did the High Priests disobey the express word of the Scriptures
in a matter of such solemnity and sacred privilege?
To Professor Jacob Z. Lauterbach belongs the merit of
having explained the principles underlying the strange
controversy between the ancient sects.*^ The High Priest,
who was about to enter the Holy of Holies alone in the dark-
ness to minister at the Rock on which God was supposed to
reveal Himself, was in mortal terror, brave though he might
otherwise be. He could not forget the ominous warning of
Scripture which, after describing the details of the ritual,
adds “that he may not die.” The Talmud tells us that the
High Priest was forbidden to prolong his stay in the chamber
120
THE PHARISEES
lest he terrify the congregation waiting in the outer courts
with beating hearts for his return from the dangerous visit.®*
If the anxiety of the bystanders was so great, what must
have been that of the chief participant. He was fearful of
a wrong step and most fearful lest, on entering the dark
vault, he see before him the vision of the Deity whom none
may look upon and live. We can thus readily understand
how a timid High Priest would take it upon himself to try
to put the incense on the fire outside the chamber so as to
protect himself by a smoke-screen from whatever was to be
seen within. The Sadducees, as the party of the aristocrats
from which the High Priests came, were guided in their
interpretation of the law solely by the actual custom. At
first they considered the deviation permitted and finally
they declared it mandatory.
To the Pharisees, none of whom ever had to pass through
the ordeal of this lonely visit and sacrifice, it seemed wrong
to disobey the express word of God; the more especially
because the motive was unworthy, and one of superstitious
terror. According to their conception of God, He was not to
be seen at all and if He chose to make manifest a vision to
the High Priest it would be for life and not for death. The
high-priestly device was inexcusable — ^legally, because it
violated the written word, and theologically because it in-
volved the crudest anthropomorphism.
The custom approved by the Sadducees must have come
into vogue before the Maccabean Rebellion. After that
period, the prestige of the Law became so great and the
respect in which it was held by everyone in all its minutiae
was so complete that not the slightest degree of deviation
could have been inaugurated. Had the Pharisaic custom
been followed in pre-Maccabean times, it would have had
SOCIAL BACKGROUND OF PHARISAIC LEGISLATION 121
the double sanction of writ and precedent^ which could
hardly have been overcome by the stress of superstition.
It follows therefore that the protective device of the High
Priests must have been invented and established generations
before the Maccabean Rebellion. It came down from the
pastj side by side with the Scripture itself, the actual
practice serving as commentary to the written word. We
must also assume that throughout this time the plebeian
scholars continued their opposition to the established
form, contending that the order prescribed in the Bible
was obligatory and that the High Priests were breaking
the law. When the inchoate plebeian opposition became
solidified in a Pharisaic party, the issue became partisan
and sectarian and gained in bitterness in proportion as the
matter discussed became sacred and exalted.
D. The Ritual of the Red Heifer*
A fourth sectarian controversy, based on the opposing
interests of plebeians and patricians, concerned the ritual of
the red heifer.
This ceremony was one of the most picturesque of the
high-priestly functions. So highly was it regarded that,
although Scripture provides that it be performed by one of
the subordinate priests — Eleazar, not Aaron, is designated
for it — yet the High Priests arrogated it to themselves.®®
According to rabbinic tradition, only seven of these heifers
were sacrificed during the entire period of the Second
Commonwealth and we know that, after the fall of the
Temple, the last ashes were preserved by the Jews
with great care and were still used as late as the third
century.®^
* Cf. Supplement, pp. 661-692.
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THE PHARISEES
The purpose of this strange observance was to purify
anyone who had come in contact with a dead body. Accord-
ing to the Levitical law, such a person was to be considered
impure for seven days. In order that he might be ritually
clean at the expiration of that time, he had to be sprinkled
during the period with water in which were mixed ashes of
the red heifer.®^ The heifer, the ashes of which were to be
used for this purpose, was carefully selected and watched
from birth lest any blemish make her unfit for use. She
could become contaminated easily; if she knew the yoke or
if she grew two black hairs, she ceased to be fit for sacrifice.
There was much ado about the place of slaughter and
burning, about the manner of leading her there and about
the care of the ashes, to prevent contamination.
The controversy between the Pharisees and the Saddu-
cees was about a detail in the observance. The law required
that the priest who prepared the red heifer be Levitically
pure; but what was meant by ‘'pure''?
If a man touched the carcass of a dead animal, he was,
according to Leviticus 11.28, “unclean until the even."
The verse says nothing about the necessity of bathing.
On the other hand, we are told somewhat later that if
anyone touches a person “that hath the issue," he must
“bathe himself in water, and be unclean until the even"
(Lev. 15.7). The same law applies to a man who has had
sexual intercourse (Lev. 15.16). The rule was made uni-
form by early exegesis which seems to have required a
ritual bath for all manner of impurity that lasted “till even."
The scriptural verses imply that the effect of the bath
comes only with nightfall and that till then the person
remains in the status of impurity. The Pharisees, however,
maintained that this was not the correct interpretation of
SOCIAL BACKGROUND OF PHARISAIC LEGISLATION 123
the Law. They insisted that the bath {tebilaK) served to
mitigate the impurity, though it did not completely remove
it. The person who has bathed might not enter the Temple
nor eat of the sacrifices or even of the heave-offering {teru-
mah) but he might come into the “camp.” He ceased to
spread impurity among others and might therefore take
part in the communal life.*® He might eat of the tithes, the
degree of holiness of which was less than that of the heave-
offering. Finally, if he were a priest, he might take part in
the sacrifice of the red heifer, which was carried out on the
Mount of Olives®^ although, since he was unable to enter
the Temple, he could not take part in any other sacrifice.
The Sadducees denied that a man who had “bathed
from his impurity” but “upon whom the sun had not set”
(that is, who was still within the first day of his impurity)
could sacrifice the red heifer. They maintained that only
a priest who was entirely pure, who had bathed from his
impurity, if he had any, and had waited till the setting of
the sun for complete purification could offer the sacrifice.®*
It would seem that the controversy centers around a
matter of unimportant ritual detail, but for the Pharisees
it was apparently of great consequence. So insistent were
they on the correctness of their views that they would
compel the High Priest who was about to perform the
ceremony to enter into a state of impurity, so that he might
have to bathe, and then, by performing the sacrifice before
the setting of the sun, testify to his acceptance of their
interpretation.*®
Commentators on the Mishna find some difficulty in
explaining the strange perversity of the Pharisees.^® For
what could possibly be gained by rendering impure a priest
who was pure? All agreed that a pure priest could perform
124
THE PHARISEES
the sacrifice legally. There was some question — and in
view of the literal meaning of the biblical verses, serious
question — whether a man who had bathed after his defile-
ment but was still within the day of it could offer the sacri-
fice. Since the red heifer was sacrificed only about once in
a half-century, no great harm could have resulted if its
performance were delayed until the High Priest could
perform it in a manner to satisfy the most exacting. But
granted that the Pharisees were certain that their inter-
pretation was correct, why should they compel a pure
High Priest to defile himself? This astonishing obstinacy is
hardly in keeping with the urbanity for which Josephus
praises them.
We are further told that a certain High Priest, Ishmael
ben Phiabi, accidentally prepared the red heifer in a state
of complete purity. The Pharisees, who had neglected to
make him impure, insisted that the ashes, prepared with
such diligence and at such cost, be strewn and wasted and
that another heifer be prepared in accordance with their
lenient views.'*^ And then there is the story of R. Johanan
ben Zakkai, the man of peace and quiet, disciple of the
great compromiser Hillel, who nevertheless lost all his
usual tolerance when he found that the High Priest of his
day was preparing to sacrifice the red heifer without pre-
vious defilement. “My lord High Priest,” he said to him,
“how much the high-priesthood becomes you! Will you not
step in and bathe only once before performing the sacrifice ?”
The High Priest, moved by these kindly words, proceeded
to bathe although, being quite pure, it was not necessary.
As the priest returned, R. Johanan, still dissatisfied,
approached him and nipped his ear in such a way as to
make him a man with a “physical blemish” and unfit to
SOCIAL BACKGROUND OF PHARISAIC LEGISLATION 125
perform any priestly service.^ That R. Johanan should
thus resort to physical force to prevent a practice which
the Pharisees did not consider objectionable but merely
unnecessary, seems incredible if we suppose that the matter
rested on nothing more than a scholastic controversy.
But a consideration of the plebeian status of the Phari-
sees, throws a new light on the entire situation. The laws
of impurity, which applied only to frequenters of the
Temple, did not fall heavily upon the agriculturists. None
of them made themselves pure except at the festival periods
when they came to the Temple as pilgrims. Nor did the
laws fall severely upon the priesthood, who, living at the
Temple, could avoid contamination. They did bear hard
on the inhabitants of Jerusalem. Artisans and traders, they
sold wine and grain for use at sacrificial meals, vessels for
the preparation of meals, priestly apparel, and other necessi-
ties of life. In order not to defile their wares, they had to
remain in a state of purity. Moreover, many of them
doubtless ate of the second tithe which the farmers, in
accordance with the Law, brought to Jerusalem during the
greater part of the year. In defilement, they were forbidden
this holy food. A citizen of Jerusalem who found that he
was impure with a major impurity — which meant, it must
be remembered, not only when he had happened to touch an
unclean vessel or attend a funeral but also when he had
been with his wife — was literally barred from his own
home. If he used a knife in a state of impurity, the knife
became impure and would thereafter render impure any
food with which it came in contact. If he touched an
earthenware vessel or stove, it became incurably impure.
The neighbors with whom he shared the stove would thus
not let him approach it. In fact, he himself would not
126
THE PHARISEES
dare to draw near it, for if the stove became impure, the
people who came to Jerusalem for the festivals would be
compelled to seek food and lodging elsewhere.
One of the most important Pharisaic interpretations of
the Law sought to remedy the difficulty by declaring that
when a man had bathed after a major impurity he still
remained unclean until evening — in accordance with the
literal word of Scripture — yet not in the original sense of
being able to impart impurity to household utensils, but in
the lesser degree of merely being barred from the Temple
and sacrificial meat.
This is the Pharisaic conception of tebul yom, a man who
has bathed {tabal) from impurity but has not yet ended
the day for which he is condemned to Levitical uncleanliness.
This law did not affect the country people at all, since
they did not observe the laws of purity in their homes.
During the Passover week, they could easily remain in a
state of complete purity. Nor were the priests, the back-
bone of the Sadducean party, affected by it. They were
still barred from the Temple and from the terumah until
the sun had set on the day of their impurity. As for their
contact with the lay population of Jerusalem, they must
have accepted the Pharisaic ruling, since all the lay popu-
lation of Jerusalem lived by it. To have rejected it would
have meant starving themselves and making the Temple
services impossible. This is apart from what Josephus and
the Talmud tell us of the power of the Pharisaic populace
to impose its will upon the Sadducean nobility and
priesthood.^®
Only at the ceremony of the red heifer were the Sadducean
priests embarrassed by the Pharisaic ruling. They had
accepted the Pharisaic Shabuot as a Temple holiday.
SOCIAL BACKGROUND OF PHARISAIC LEGISLATION 127
They offered incense on the Day of Atonement in accord-
ance with Pharisaic teachings. In these matters there was
a clear variation of custom. However, where their views
were more stringent than those of their opponents, they
thought it unreasonable that they should be compelled to
act against their conscience. They found no warrant for
the underlying conception of tebul yom in Scripture and it
seemed to them that it had been purposely created to meet
a difficulty in observing the Law. Moreover, a conscien-
tious Sadducee could not agree readily to what he con-
sidered a defilement of the ashes of the red heifer, for that
would render the ashes ineffective and nullify all future
purifications performed with them.
The Pharisees could not agree to the Sadducean require-
ment that the priest officiating at the red heifer ceremonial
be completely pure. The sacrifice was performed not in
the Temple but on the Mount of Olives, and the only justi-
fication for absolute purity would have been a rejection of
the Pharisaic doctrine of tebul yom. But how could the
urban Pharisees abandon a teaching which alone made it
possible for them to live a normal life?
The Pharisaic opposition to the Sadducean severity was
thus not a matter of perversity at all. It was a question
of clear necessity. In a Jerusalem which had become a
large metropolis, it was impossible without some miti-
gating interpretation to maintain a law according to which
the larger part of the population was defiled daily. The
only logical arrangement was the one proposed by the
Pharisees which resulted in a widespread custom of bathing
each morning to wash away any impurity. This custom we
find exemplified in Judith (12.8) who bathed each morning
while she was in the camp of the enemy, where she was
128
THE PHARISEES
unable to avoid touching impure vessels and other utensils.
The advantages which this interpretation gave to the
plebeian merchant of Jerusalem were such that he could
not surrender them. The only occasion when he was called
upon to defend his doctrine was at the ceremony of the
red heifer and it was then that he insisted upon the accept-
ance of his interpretation.
E. The Impurity of Metals*
‘'On one occasion/' the Talmud tells us, “the menorah
(the candelabrum in the Temple) had to be purified. The
Sadducees who saw the procedure mocked, saying, ‘Look
at the Pharisees who are about to bathe the orb of the
sun!'
Neither the Talmud nor the writers on the subject have
any definite record of a controversy that would have justi-
fied the Sadducees in laughing at the Pharisaic lustration
of the temple candelabrum. Merely to remark that the
Pharisees were more stringent in their observance of Levit-
ical purity than the Sadducees does not assist us much,
for we know that in some respects the Sadducees were
more rigorous.^®
The story is, however, illuminated by the tradition
handed down in the Jerusalem as well as the Babylonian
Talmud, that “Simeon ben Shattah decreed that the laws of
impurity should apply also to utensils made of metal,"^®
We are further informed that he was also the sponsor for
a decree bringing glassware under the laws of impurity.'^^
We might suppose a priori that the Sadducees would refuse
to accept a decree of Simeon ben Shattah (ca. 75 B.C.E.),
especially when, even according to him, it was not based
* Cf. Supplement, pp. 693-694.
SOCIAL BACKGROUND OF PHARISAIC LEGISLATION 129
on biblical law or precedent but was merely an order of
the Sanhedrin which he controlled. All doubt about the
matter is removed by the incident we have just cited.
The Sadducees laughed at the Pharisaic purification of the
Menorah because they held that being made of metal, it
could not become Levitically impure.
What were the conditions that lay behind this controversy?
The Scriptures in their various regulations about ritual
purity speak of utensils made of wood, hides, cloth, and
clay/® There are no provisions regarding metallic household
articles. The reason for this is simple. In early times Jews
did not use metal articles in their houses. The Temple,
and perhaps the King, had gold, iron, and bronze dishes of
various types, but not the rest of the people. Metal was
expensive, and household arrangements in ancient Judea
were primitive. As time passed, the richer classes probably
provided themselves with such luxuries as knives and
metal cups. Ultimately even glass, the most expensive of
all articles in Judea, was used by some of the nobility.
But among the artisan and trading masses all these
remained unknown.^®
Since the Scriptures made no express provision for the
impurity of glass and metal utensils, they were touched by
their owners, even in a state of impurity, without compunc-
tion and without lustration. The plebeians could see no
reason for giving such special immunity to these utensils of
luxury. Their view was not without support in the Torah,
for in Numbers 31.22 the rule is laid down, ‘'Howbeit the
gold, and the silver, the brass, the iron, the tin, and the
lead, every thing that may abide the fire, ye shall make to
go through the fire, and it shall be clean; nevertheless it
shall be purified with the water of sprinkling; and all that
130
THE PHARISEES
abideth not the fire ye shall make to go through the water.”
The patricians presumably held that purification was re-
quired only under the special conditions discussed in the
passage, namely, for vessels captured in war with the
heathen. They declined to extend the rule to metalware in
general.
The controversy regarding the matter had begun long
before the origin of the Pharisaic party. Even during the
turmoil of the Maccabean Wars, the plebeian sages, led by
Jose ben Joezer and Jose ben Johanan, decreed impurity
for glassware. Such a step would hardly have been taken
in the midst of unsettled conditions had not the issue been
raised and contested in earlier times. No special regulation
was made concerning metal goods, for it was held that they
were included in the biblical provision. Eighty years later,
however, when the Pharisees attained full power in the
state under Queen Salome, they not only reaffirmed the
impurity of glass, but issued a similar decree against metal-
ware. The decree was opposed by the Sadducees who
regarded it as an innovation pointed against themselves.
F. The Sabbath Lights*
A special series of controversies arose from differences
concerning the Sabbath. The Sabbath, during the Second
Commonwealth, became the foremost institution in Juda-
ism, as sacred in its way as the Temple itself. More than
once Jerusalem was taken without resistance because its
soldiers refused to fight on the Sabbath day.®® Authentic
records tell us that in “the days of the Greeks,” a man was
executed for riding on a horse in violation of the Sabbath.®^
The Book of Jubilees (50.8 ff.) enumerates some fifteen
* Cf. Supplement, p. 660.
SOCIAL BACKGROUND OF PHARISAIC LEGISLATION 131
activities which it considers violations of the Sabbath
punishable by death, and the Mishna classifies the pro-
hibited acts under no less than thirty-nine heads.®^
Disagreement about the rules governing the Sabbath
observance of necessity tended to become factional and
bitter. It was doubtless thus that a violent controversy
arose about the beautiful custom of kindling Sabbath lights.
Geiger was the first to suggest that the Sadducees forbade
the use of fire on the Sabbath, and his view is now generally
accepted.®® The Pharisees, on the contrary, maintained
that kindling the lights on the Sabbath eve was not merely
permitted, but an absolute command. They declared it the
foremost duty and privilege of the Jewish woman, and their
rabbinic disciples devoted a whole chapter in the Mishna
to the rules concerning the wick and oils to be used.
We may be certain that this controversy did not arise
from a disagreement among exegetes as to the meaning of
the verse: “Ye shall kindle no fire throughout your habita-
tions upon the sabbath day” (Ex. 35.3). Customs create
exegesis, not exegesis customs. Particularly was this true in
ancient times when customs were naturally expressions of
the popular soul and resisted artificial or arbitrary imposition.
A more probable explanation of this difference between
the sects is that it arose naturally from the everyday con-
ditions prevailing in ancient Judea, which made the use of
fire on the Sabbath superfluous for patrician farmers and
absolutely essential for plebeians, especially those who lived
in Jerusalem.
It will be remembered that the patrician farmers of
Judea had their estates mainly in the lowland of the coastal
plain or about Jericho, whereas the plebeians were con-
fined to the highlands. Now, as anyone who has traveled
132
THE PHARISEES
in the Holy Land knows, there is a sharp difference in
temperature between the plains and the hills during the
rainy winter season. Jericho is always tropical, and the
coastal plain, too, is warm even in December and January,
when the cold in Jerusalem is distinctly uncomfortable.^^
The Bible tells how, in ancient times, King Jehoiakim
had a special winter house in which he sat “in the ninth
month” with the hearth fire burning before him, while the
dire prophecies of Jeremiah were being read to him (Jer.
36.22). As late as the Passover season (the beginning of
April) there was a fire burning in the home of the High
Priest at which Peter warmed himself.®® Likewise, in early
autumn, on the Day of Atonement (the end of September),
the waters in Jerusalem were so cold that heated irons were
lowered into them to remove the chill when the High Priest
underwent the five required ritual baths.®®
At no season was artificial heat required in the lowlands.
Fire was used there only to prepare food. Since cooking
on the Sabbath was prohibited, the prosperous farmer of
the valleys ushered in the holy day by extinguishing all his
fires at sunset on Friday. The highland peasant and the
native of Jerusalem, shivering in the chill of winter rain,
could not indulge in this observance. They would not
kindle a fire on the Sabbath, but neither would they ex-
tinguish the fires which were already burning. The lowland
farmer became so addicted to his custom that he regarded
fire as tabu on the Sabbath and, even when he removed to
Jerusalem, his conscience would not let him avail himself
of the plebeian leniency in this respect. As a matter of
fact, if he had chosen to yield to the demands of the rigorous
climate, class fashion — always the most tyrannical of
masters — would have kept him from doing so. The ancient
SOCIAL BACKGROUND OF PHARISAIC LEGISLATION 133
Judean patrician coming to Jerusalem could no more
reconcile himself to the use of fire on the Sabbath than the
modern colonial official, called to govern a tropical country,
can discard ceremonial evening clothes at dinner.
Moreover, among the plebeians of Jerusalem, fire was
needed not only for heat but also for light. This use was
practically unknown in the country, either on the hills or in
the valleys. The Judean peasants, like their fellow-farmers
of all times and all regions, were doubtless in the habit of
going to sleep immediately after dark. There was nothing
else to do. Public gatherings or festivities were not easily
arranged at night, since travel was difficult, and even
social visiting was done preferably by day. It was far
otherwise in Jerusalem and other large towns. The Mishna,
doubtless recording an urban practice, tells us that on
Friday nights a teacher may read with his pupils by candle-
light.®’ We know that at least on one occasion the children
of R. Gamaliel came home from a banquet after midnight.®*
The Passover celebration among the plebeians generally
lasted till late in the evening, frequently till midnight,
and sometimes later.®* We are told that R. Meir (and
probably others) were accustomed to deliver lectures on
Sabbath eve.*® The Mishna contemplates the possibility of
a person reading the Shema as late as midnight. It is
interesting to note that R. Eliezer b. Hyrcanus, a native
of the country, opposed this rule and limited the time to the
end of the first watch.'^
The difference in habit between city and country inevi-
tably affected the methods of welcoming Queen Sabbath.
The Judean peasant, not knowing what to do with his
Friday night leisure and being accustomed to early hours,
went to bed soon after the Sabbath fell. The city-dweller.
134
THE PHARISEES
on the other hand, prepared to spend the evening visiting
his friends, listening to a learned lecture or reviewing the
weekly portion of the Pentateuch for the next morning's
public reading. His last work on the weekday was to
kindle lights for the Sabbath day. As time went on, the
ushering in of the Sabbath, which had become associated
for one group of people with the extinguishing of what they
knew to be the week-day fire, was marked by the other
with the kindling of what they recognized as Sabbath lights.
Since it was established by the plebeians of Jerusalem,
the custom was accepted as a Pharisaic ceremony and thus
made its way into many rural hamlets where it could not
have been indigenous. Still, some resistance to it must
have continued for centuries after the Pharisees had won
apparent control of the whole Jewish community, for,
during the seventh century, the ancient tabu against the
use of fire was resurrected by the Karaites and made one
of the fundamentals of their schismatic faith. They could
hardly have invented the prohibition; nor could they have
discovered it in extant literature. They must have found
it current in some of the backward settlements which still
clung to the ancient practice of the lowland peasants.
The rules regarding the Sabbath apply with equal force
to the Day of Atonement; hence the difference in practice
concerning the use of light and fire on the Sabbath extended
also to that solemn festival. But, while the peasants of
Judea and Galilee readily accepted the plebeian ruling for
the Sabbath, their awe for Yom ha-Kippurim prevented
them from violating their ancestral habits on that day. In
many Pharisaic communities, therefore, the lights would be
kindled on Friday evening but not on the eve of the Day
of Atonement. The distinction is recorded in the Mishna:
SOCIAL BACKGROUND OF PHARISAIC LEGISLATION 135
‘'In localities where it is customary to kindle the lights for
the Day of Atonement, they are kindled; where it is custom-
ary not to kindle them, they are not kindled.”®^ Perforce
the rabbinic authorities recognized the right of the local
group to decide against the majority practice. This toler-
ance, however, did not extend to the Sabbath lights which
had become universal among the plebeians and had
developed into a subject of sectarian controversy.
As generations passed and children grew up who remem-
bered the delight of well-lit Sabbath homes, the natural
beginnings of the custom of kindling Sabbath lights were
forgotten in the reverence for their beauty and splendor.
To kindle the lights became one of the highest privileges
of Jewish wifehood and the tenderest memories of a Jewish
child go back to the picture of his mother, standing before
her Sabbath lights, transfigured by the spiritual joy of the
oncoming Sabbath.
G. The Merging of Households on
THE Sabbath {‘ Erui )*
Professor Jeremias tells how on the occasion of his first
visit to Jerusalem many years ago, before electricity and
telephones had become common, he was amazed to find
strange wires drawn about various parts of the city.
‘^Are you so advanced that you have electric connections
here?” he asked.
He was informed, however, that the wires were connected
not with modern science but with ancient ritual.®® They
were needed to enable Jews to carry burdens on the Sabbath
from house to house within certain districts. This interesting
custom was the subject of a bitter sectarian controversy be-
tween Pharisee and Sadducee.
Cf. Supplement, pp. 718 ff.
136
THE PHARISEES
The controversy arose out of the attempt of ancient
Jewish Law to suppress commercial traffic on the Sabbath.
To accomplish this, it forbade the transfer of goods from
place to place on the holy day. Both jurists and people
more easily understood a prohibition against the tangible
act of carrying a burden than against the legal concepts of
purchase and sale. Hence, when Nehemiah found peddlars,
peasants and Tyrian fishermen bringing their wares into
Jerusalem for marketing on the Sabbath, he denounced not
their commercial traffic but their bearing “all manner of
burdens” (Neh. 13.15). The unknown prophet, whose words
were incorporated in the seventeenth chapter of Jeremiah,
also inveighs against those who carry a “burden on the
Sabbath day,” and “bring it in by the gates of Jerusalem”
(17.21). He adds, however: “Neither carry forth a burden
out of your houses on the Sabbath day, neither do ye any
work; but hallow ye the Sabbath day, as I commanded your
fathers.” There was thus established a norm against
taking anything into or out of a house on the Sabbath.
For the purposes of the Law the whole of a man’s private
estate was considered his house, so that the farmers and
city patricians had no difficulty in bringing food or other
necessities from court or garden into the house or vice
versa. The plebeian, however, who lived in the crowded
slums of Jerusalem, where one court was shared by several
families, found the observance of the Law very difficult.
In the little cubicles where the poor dwelt, there was not
even room for their meager household utensils. Food had
to be left in the court; water had to be brought from the
common cistern; yet a literal interpretation of the Law
regarded carrying either into the house as a violation of
the Sabbath.
SOCIAL BACKGROUND OF PHARISAIC LEGISLATION 137
To meet this difficulty, the plebeians began to merge
their several households into a single large unit for the
Sabbath. They would prepare their meals and eat them
together, and consider themselves a single family. This
made it possible for them to carry things not only from
their various houses into the common court but from one
house to another during the Sabbath day.
Gradually, the common meal, which was frequently
inconvenient to arrange, became a merely formal supple-
ment to the regular breakfasts and dinners which were
taken at home. In the end, all that was left of this custom
was a special loaf of bread, kneaded from flour contributed
by each family in the court; a potential meal which was
never eaten at all. In this manner, the rigorous law was
fully circumvented and adjusted. Actual sale on the
Sabbath and the significant transfer of property remained
forbidden, but the personal hardships involved in the
prohibition were overcome.
The aristocrats, however, living in spacious homes or on
large country estates, had never felt the weight of the
original law. They were quite satisfied with the prohibition
and saw no reason for evading it. What appeared to the
plebeian as a natural adjustment of the Law was in the eyes
of the patrician a monstrous fiction invented to flout it.
He denied that a mere formal merger of households per-
mitted the inhabitants of a court or alley to transfer goods
from one house to another. So important was the arrange-
ment for the life and well-being of the plebeians, however,
that they declared the denial itself to be schismatic and
heretical. In this manner arose the controversy concerning
the validity of the ‘erub (the formal or fictional merging
of households).®*
138
THE PHARISEES
In later times, the principle of the ^erub was extended,
and it became customary to ‘^merge’' not only the house-
holds using the same court but the courts which opened into
a single lane. In the final development of the institution,
whole villages and even cities were “merged’" into a single
“household”, enabling people to carry their burdens on the
Sabbath within the limits of the locality without hindrance.
In order to bring these larger units within the Law, it was
necessary to surround them with a symbolic “wall” which
ultimately became reduced to a wire stretched around the
city boundaries. These wires can be seen in many European
towns and are put up every Friday to make possible the
“merging of the households” on the Sabbath. It was these
wires which Professor Jeremias was so astonished to see in
Jerusalem.
H. The Rights of Daughters as Heirs*
The social differences between the sects, which so deeply
affected their attitude toward ritual, were reflected with
equal clarity in their interpretations of the Civil Law. But
whereas the ceremonial customs of the Sadducees were
practically all inherited from their rural ancestors, the
juristic decisions rendered by their judges were fixed during
their experience as patricians in Jerusalem. Such questions
as the rights of daughters to share in their parents" property,
or of the punishment of false witnesses, or of the responsi-
bility of masters for damages done by their slaves, were not
issues on which popular class traditions could develop.
Controversies arose regarding them only as the judges
drawn from the opposing groups found themselves inter-
preting the Law in different manners. Hence the contro-
versies between the sects in questions of Civil Law have
* C£ Supplement, pp. 694-696.
SOCIAL BACKGROUND OF PHARISAIC LEGISLATION 139
about them a clear and recognized awareness of opposing
class interests which is lacking in the more natural disagree-
ments regarding ceremonial observances.
While in each case of disagreement on questions of Civil
Law, we can see how the patrician interest clashed with that
of the plebeians, the Sadducees were encouraged in espousing
their class views in this field by the fact that they generally
had the support of the patrician-controlled Roman Law.“
Both aspects of the Sadducean argument, the dominating
class interest and the influence of Roman Law, are clearly
exemplified in the controversy regarding the rights of
daughters to inherit.®®
As is well known, biblical Law recognizes sons as primary
heirs; daughters inherit property only where there are no
sons (Num. 27.8). It was assumed from the beginning that
this precedence of brothers over sisters descended also to
their sons; so that, if a man died while his father was alive,
his sons took his place as next of kin, and were given prece-
dence over any female relative.
The question arose, however, whether this rule applied
also to the daughters of a son. If, for instance, the genealog-
ical table was as follows:
A
3 (Son, deceased)
1
C (daughter)
(granddaughter)
i. e., if B died while his father was alive, did D, his daughter,
inherit his rights of priority over his sister, C?
140
THE PHARISEES
Logically, it would seem that, even from the point of
view of the ancients, who had such deep respect for mascu-
linity, little could be said in favor of granting D the whole
of her grandfather’s property and disinheriting C. Certainly
a man’s child should not be set aside in favor of his grand-
child, when they were both of the same sex. And, indeed,
the Sadducees did maintain that in such a case the daughter
and granddaughter divided the property equally.
The Pharisees, however, insisted that the granddaughter
inherited all her father’s rights and was the sole heir. This
view, which seems so contrary to the general tendency of
the Pharisees toward the emancipation of women, becomes
clear only when we analyze the social background against
which it was formulated.
The issue of women’s rights was not involved from the
Pharisaic point of view; for both relatives were women.
What was involved was the advisability of dividing prop-
erty between heirs. The plebeians, whose estates were so
small that they could hardly maintain a family in comfort,
even with much effort, consistently opposed any rule which
made for further division. This attitude of the plebeians
was clearly demonstrated when the Pharisees, themselves,
divided into two factions on similar issues which arose in
later times. The Hillelites, and after them the great plebeian
teacher, R. Akiba, always maintained that it was better to
leave estates intact, even though one of the heirs was left
without any property, than to divide the small estates into
still smaller holdings, which would be insufficient for either
relative.®'
The patricians with their larger and more productive
estates did not have to choose between the painful alter-
SOCIAL BACKGROUND OF PHARISAIC LEGISLATION 141
natives, and were at liberty to bestow equal rights on the
daughter and the granddaughter.
It should be noted, perhaps, that even according to
Pharisaic law, the daughter was not left without support.
A clear provision of the Pharisaic law declared that un-
married daughters were to remain in their father’s house
after his death, and were to be supported by his heirs —
whoever those might be — until they were married.®® More-
over, the plebeians did not regard it as humiliating or
shameful for a woman to support herself. The daughter,
who was denied the privilege of inheritance, was not an
outcast; she simply shared the status of the daughters of
many plebeian scribes, who had no property at all. If she
did not wish to be maintained in her father’s house after
his death, she could find work and earn her livelihood.
Among the patricians and provincials, who regarded the
self-sufficient woman as an anomaly, if not worse, it seemed
better to maintain the daughter in even the most pre-
carious existence on a landed estate, rather than to thrust
her into the world of work and commerce.
That the issue of daughter versus granddaughter was
quite dissociated from that of feminist rights, becomes
evident from a consideration of another controversy between
the plebeians and the patricians regarding inheritance. If a
man died, leaving sons and daughters, and the estate was
inadequate to provide a means of livelihood for the sons
and also to maintain the daughters until their marriage,
the plebeians say: “Let the daughters be maintained,
even if the sons are driven to beg.” But Admon, a
patrician judge, insisted, “Am I to lose my rights because
I am a male?” His opinion was that the sons’ rights of
142
THE PHARISEES
inheritance took precedence over the daughters’ rights to
maintenance.
The controversy between the sects reappeared in the
discussion of the rights of daughters to inherit their mothers
property. Since the biblical Law speaks only of a man s
estate, the patricians, led by the famous priest-scholar,
Zechariah ben ha-Kazzab, said that an estate left by a
woman should be divided equally between sons and daugh-
ters; his plebeian opponents denied this.®*
While the element of class interest was doubtless the
primary motive for the patrician interpretation of the law
of inheritance, there can be no doubt that the Sadducees
were strengthened in their view by the fact that Roman
Law, in this as in some other matters, tended to side with
them.
1. The Law of False Witnesses.*
The only instance in which the Pharisees are known
to have demanded a harsher interpretation of the Law
than the Sadducees was that of false witnesses. Biblical
Law, like that of the Sumerians and the Code of
Hammurabi, provided that false witnesses should sulFer
the penalty they tried to inflict on their neighbor (Deut.
19.19). The Sadducees held that this rule applied only
when the accused person had actually sufiered injury
through the testimony of the false witnesses. The Pharisees
maintained, however, that the crime of the false witnesses
was complete when judgment was issued in accordance with
their testimony. Whether the sentence was actually exe-
cuted did not affect their status.^^
Cf. Supplement, pp, 696-698.
SOCIAL BACKGROUND OF PHARISAIC LEGISLATION 143
The departure of the Pharisees from their ordinary
leniency of interpretation can be explained only in terms of
the social need. They were obviously convinced that in
this instance they could not afford to indulge their incli-
nation to be merciful. The whole structure of Jewish
judicial procedure was based on the reliability of witnesses.
It was cruelty to the whole group to permit anyone who
tried to shake this foundation of the state to escape deserved
penalties.
The Sadducees would doubtless have agreed with them
regarding the importance of this social need. But they
could not accept the Pharisaic principle that the witnesses
had committed a punishable act in simply giving testimony.
They regarded the lex talionis as properly applied to false
witnesses who^ in accordance with the general primitive
practice, had also acted as executioners. They were
willing to extend it to cases where the Court, following later
procedure, had appointed an executioner whom they, with
their vague ideas of personality,^^ could still regard as the
agent of the witnesses. But when the accused had suffered
no physical injury, either through the witnesses or someone
delegated to act for them, how could the witnesses be
punished?
The answer of the Pharisees to this was, of course, that
the witnesses were punished for a crime against the state,
that of giving false testimony, and not for a wrong to an
individual. In order to understand this, however, the
Sadducees would have had to admit that so abstract a
matter as giving testimony was an act, in the juridical
sense of the word. This they could not do. It was in vain
that the Pharisees pointed out that Scripture expressly
144
THE PHARISEES
states^, in connection with the law of evidence, that the
false witness is to be punished for the wrong he intended to
do to his brother (Deut. 19.19). The Sadducees held that
intention alone was not enough; physical injury must
accompany it before the Court could take action.^®
The issue between the sects apparently arose in con-
nection with an incident which has been recorded, A man
who had given testimony in a murder case was proven to
have been a false witness; and fortunately this discovery
was made before the person against whom he had testified
had been executed. Thereupon a court, headed by Simeon
ben Shattah himself, executed the false witness. Such an
innovation was this at the time that not only the Sadducees,
but Judah ben Tabbai, the leader of the patrician faction
of the Pharisees, vigorously protested. ‘‘May I not see the
consolation,’’ Judah is said to have cried out, “if you have
not shed innocent blood
Nevertheless Simeon’s view prevailed among the Phari-
sees, and became part of the legal heritage of the whole
Order. It continued however to be opposed by the
Sadducees.
In this instance, again, we note that the Sadducean
interpretation of the Law, based doubtless on Israelitish
precedent, coincided entirely with the early Roman rule
on the subject. There can be little doubt that this support
of foreign precedent played an important role in the resist-
ance which the Sadducees offered to the acceptance of
Simeon ben Shatfa.]^^<5 rnlincr.^^
VIII. THE DOCTRINE OF THE RESURRECTION
AND IMMORTALITY*
The fiercest of all the conflicts between Pharisee and
Sadducee concerned the doctrine of the resurrection, for
in it the class conflict was most explicitly formulated.
Crushed under the heel of the oppressor and exploiter,
the artisan and trader of Jerusalem in the fourth century
B.C.E. sought compensation in an ideal world beyond the
grave, where all human inequalities would be leveled down
before the overwhelming power of God. The bitterer his
lot in this world, the more passionately he clung to his
hopes of the next. An abstract immortality might satisfy
the philosopher; the hungry slum-dweller of Jerusalem
could be comforted by nothing less than the Egyptian and
Persian doctrine of physical resurrection and restitution.^
The expectation that the struggles of the world would
culminate in a glorious Messianic Age, ushering in peace
and tranquillity reminiscent of Adam’s Paradise, had
long been prominent in Israel’s thought; and this offered an
excellent background for the new faith.^ Several passages
in the Second Isaiah seem to indicate that already he had
been thinking in terms of the resurrection;® but it remained
for a later prophet, the author of Isaiah, chapters 24-27,
to avow the belief clearly and explicitly.
*'Thy dead shall live, my dead bodies shall arise —
Awake and sing, ye that dwell in the dust —
For Thy dew is as the dew of light,
And the earth shall bring to life the shades’^ (26.19).
* CL Supplement, pp. 142-7S3.
145
146
THE PHARISEES
But this doctrine had been so long and so pointedly
ignored among the Jews that the introduction of it might
well have appeared to be defection to foreign worship.
Moreover, appealing as a future life might seem, the belief
in it was derived from animism, ancestor worship, and
other primitive errors which were hated and despised by
the Jewish religious teachers. Throughout the duration of
the First Commonwealth they had struggled against its
infiltration from Egypt and had on the whole succeeded in
keeping Jewish faith free from the taint both of the resur-
rection and of the superstitions associated with it.^ But by
the fifth century B.C.E. the peril of idolatry had almost
disappeared in Jerusalem, and there was less reason for
objection to a doctrine which in itself had so much that
was pure, inspiring and morally helpful. It was inertia
rather than religious policy which opposed the new article
of faith; even after such “radicals” as the author of Isaiah 26
had spoken, official Judaism still regarded the belief in the
resurrection with strong suspicion.
We may, however, see a possible concession in the Torah
itself, where the Egyptian practice of embalming is accepted
with approval for both Jacob and Joseph.® True, the
resurrection is not even mentioned in this connection. But
in Egyptian thought the preservation of the body was a
necessary preparation for its ultimate quickening. Con-
scious opposition to the doctrine of the resurrection would
surely not be compatible with the ascription of this practice
to the revered patriarchs.
But while we have these scattered and indirect allusions
to the resurrection in earlier writers, the first picture of a
revivified world is given by the inaugurators of the Enoch
literature, who are supposed to have lived about the year
DOCTRINE OF RESURRECTION AND IMMORTALITY 147
200 B.C.E., shortly before Antiochus Epiphanes initiated
his unsuccessful effort forcibly to Hellenize the Jews.
“And no mortal is permitted to touch this tree of
delicious fragrance till the great day of judgment, when
He shall avenge and bring everything to its consum-
mation forever; this tree, I say, will [then] be given to
the righteous and humble. By its fruit, life will be
given to the elect; it will be transplanted to the north,
to the holy place, to the temple of the Lord, the Eternal
King. Then will they rejoice with joy and be glad:
they will enter Thy holy habitation: the fragrance
thereof will be in their limbs, and they will live a long
life on earth, such as their fathers have lived: and in
their days no sorrow or pain or trouble or calamity
will affect them” (Enoch 25.5-7, R. H. Charles’ trans-
lation).
The apocalyptist was himself doubtless one of the “humble”
of whom he speaks so affectionately. But he uses that term
not as we do, to indicate the affectation of the mighty who
put on “meekness” as a social amenity. The humility which
he has in mind is not a virtue but a condition. The word
“ ^anavim” which was certainly the original rendered by the
English “humble,” came like its English equivalent, to
mean “pious,” “saintly,” and “meek,” because it signified
the unprotesting, non-resisting, unambitious, lowly, the
social opposites of the wealthy, who find it so difficult to
enter the kingdom of heaven.
It was this aspect of the Jewish doctrine of the resurrec-
tion — its democracy — which gives it more than theological
importance; and which indeed prepared the way for its
spread throughout the world. Egyptian immortality was
148
THE PHARISEES
to be attained through power. The Pharaoh, the princes
and the nobility not only possessed this world, but by costly
burial arrangements they could ensure their return from
death itself. Such a perpetuation of the wrongs of the
mundane world would have aroused little enthusiasm in
Jerusalem’s market place; and, indeed, it is altogether
probable that the resistance to it explains in large part the
failure of the earlier Israelite and Judaite teachers to recog-
nize the larger spiritual potentialities of the teaching of
the resurrection. Only when the doctrine was presented as
one of salvation for the righteous, be they rich or poor, Jew
or Gentile, noble or plebeian, did the masses of Jerusalem
become converted to it.
While, however, the poor of the fourth century B.C.E.
and later times sought solace in the new faith, the patricians
felt no impulse to abandon the traditional negation of
future life. The patricians were not content with monopo-
lizing this life; they even begrudged the poor another and
better life beyond the grave. To assert the truth of the
resurrection was to them nothing less than heresy, a reces-
sion from a standpoint to which prophetic Judaism had
steadfastly adhered through almost a millennium, and an
acceptance of the foreign influence of Egypt and of Zoroaster.
It is not among those who have enjoyed the triumphs of
this world that we should look for preoccupation with the
consolations of the next. It is an almost universal feature of
religious history that the longing for another and better
life to come was confined, in its strongest forms, to those
who had been the victims of life as it is here. This was not
less true among the Jews than among others.
The cleavage between the plebeian artisans and traders
of Jerusalem and their wealthy neighbors was sharpened
DOCTRINE OF RESURRECTION AND IMMORTALITY 149
by the maturer concept of personality and the individual
which was becoming current in the market place. The
rural and aristocratic families and clans were held together
as units by well remembered traditions^ and above all by
the property, nominally held by the father but actually the
means of support to the whole group — wives, children,
slaves and retainers. The members of the family lived,
worked, prospered and suffered together. Their interests
were inextricably interwoven, and, as everywhere, mutual
interdependence gave rise to a sense of solidarity unknown
in other circles. The family of Bathyra, for instance, acted
as a unit in its interpretation of the Law; the high-priestly
families were powerful clans, the individuals of which were
merely organs of the general group. Such clan-consciousness
was altogether lacking among the poorer classes, where
there was no common property or tradition to unite the
members of the family. On the contrary, the city was full of
divisive forces tending to disrupt the family unit. Wife and
children could earn their livelihood without the assistance
of husband and father; they made friendships of their own,
and tended to become independent in their judgments,
thoughts and desires. Sociologists have long noted this
disruptive effect of city life on the primitive family, but it
is important to remember that the centrifugal force was
especially strong among the laborers and tradesmen, and
rather weak among the patricians, who in ancient times,
as today, laid great stress on genealogy and family associa-
tions.'
True, the tendency toward the cult of the individual had
shown itself early in Israel, but it was limited to the property-
less groups, and was continually opposed by the land-owning
patricians. The story of the argument between Abraham
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THE PHARISEES
and God concerning the fate of Sodom is a case in point.
“That be far from Thee,” says Abraham, “to do after this
manner, to slay the righteous with the wicked, that so the
righteous shall be as the wicked, that be far from Thee;
shall not the Judge of all the earth do justly?” (Gen. 18.25).
The point of the story is lost, and the vehemence of Abraham
remains inexplicable, unless we bear in mind that Abraham
is here inveighing against a definite moral and theological
concept — the tribal feud, or the vendetta. The principle
was even more clearly expressed in Deuteronomy, where the
slaying of children for the sins of their father was explicitly
forbidden (24.16), and where we are told that God’s wrath
descends from father to son only for His enemies (7.10), that
is, as the Talmud correctly understands, when the sons
imitate their fathers’ wickedness.’ In another passage of the
Torah, the defense of individual responsibility is attributed
to Moses. When God threatens to destroy Israel for the sins
of Korah, Moses asks Him in accents which ring through the
ages, “Shall one man sin, and wilt Thou be wroth with all
the congregation?” (Num. 16.22). A special notation is
made, in that connection, of the fact that the sons of Korah
were not punished when their father was destroyed (ibid.
26.12). Nevertheless when Amaziah put this rule into prac-
tice by sparing the children of the murderers of his father,
he made an indelible impression on the memory of the
people (II Kings 14.6). Men’s thoughts had to be com-
pletely revolutionized before they became conscious of their
own ego. Even Jeremiah, prophet as he was, but coming
from the fields of Anathoth, assimilated the new doctrine
only by steps; it was not until Ezekiel’s maturity that the
principle received its full and final formulation.
DOCTRINE OF RESURRECTION AND IMMORTALITY 151
No sooner, however, had this been done, than the question
of individual reward and punishment, hardly mentioned
before Ezekiel’s day, became a burning issue. If the indi-
vidual rather than the group is the unit of moral responsi-
bility, why do the wicked prosper and the righteous suffer?
Isaiah had not asked the question, for individual prosperity
or adversity were irrelevant in the social scheme as a whole.
Jeremiah in his later years had struggled with it and had
come to no definite conclusion.® The writers of Job could
not escape the problem, which flowed inescapably from
Ezekiel’s theology.
The doctrine of the resurrection offered a full solution to
the difficulty and was altogether in the spirit of the indi-
vidualism which prompted it. The individual is not an
indistinguishable part of the community; he is an immortal
being, for whom, if he has merited it, there waits another
and happier life when God shall say the word.
The plebeian artisan and trader was thus doubly prepared
for the doctrine of the resurrection, by his tendency to
respect the individual and by his overpowering impulse to
believe in some place where the world was in moral balance.
To these factors was added the continual contact with
Persian and Egyptian traders and travelers.® The rural
farmers naturally escaped this influence, and even the city
patricians were partly immune to it.
We must not overlook, of course, the powerful effect of
the natural piety of the plebeians on their willingness to
accept the belief in the resurrection. It seemed to the
religious teachers patent common sense that God would
not forsake the righteous even after death. The idea that
all mankind would find its permanent and ultimate home
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THE PHARISEES
in a shadowy Sheol must have horrified the intelligent
thinkers of this group, once they had rid themselves of the
inherited prejudice in its favor. But this piety and intel-
lectual outlook were both, as we shall see,^® far more fully
developed among the city plebeians than among the aristo-
crats. They strengthened the influences which were making
for the spread of the new doctrine; they could not bring it
to any new section of the populace.
Yet such was the opposition to the new faith that it could
hardly have won acceptance without the special assistance
of other circumstances. The plebeian writers of Enoch who
preached it were more than matched by the great patrician
teachers who denied it. Foremost among these opponents
of the doctrine of the resurrection was Ben Sira (ca. 200
B.C.E.), himself a scion of aristocracy, who had, like many
others in different ages, chosen to associate himself with
the suppressed classes rather than with his own peers.
He became a scholar and teacher, opposed to the Hellenism
of his day, and generally sympathetic to the Hasideans.
But as frequently occurs with patrician leaders of plebeian
groups, he could not altogether enter into the soul of the
oppressed whom he wished to lead. He sympathized with
them, and like his great master, the High Priest Simeon
the Righteous, gave wider currency to some of their pro-
nouncements. But in fundamental matters his early breed-
ing, with its ingrained bias, inevitably asserted itself. The
teaching of the resurrection must have been particularly
repugnant to him. The prophets, most of the psalmists, the
writers of the main body of Job, had denied it; yet it was
making its way into Judaism. The plebeian acceptance of
the doctrine seemed to him as assimilationist as the Hellen-
istic pastimes and affectations of the aristocrats.
DOCTRINE OF RESURRECTION AND IMMORTALITY 153
So we find him saying with explicitness not found
elsewhere:
“For when a man dieth, he inheriteth
Worm and maggot, lice and creeping things”
(Ecclus. 10.11).
“For what pleasure hath God in all that perish in
Hades,
in place of those who live and give Him praise?
Thanksgiving perisheth from the dead as from one that
is not” (17.27).
“Fear not death, it is thy destiny;
Remember that the former and the latter share it
with thee” (41.3),
Another Hasidean teacher, Antigonus of Socho, whose
Hellenked name gives evidence that he, like Ben Sira, was
one of those who had renounced the privileges of their
aristocratic heritage and thrown in their lot with the
despised plebeians, tried to remove the burning issue from
theological discussion. He appealed to the principle of
virtue for virtue’s sake, enunciating it with a vigor and
dignity which, as Toy remarks, is quite without parallel
“in the Old Testament or the New Testament.”^^ “Be not,”
he taught, “like servants who obey their master in the
hope of receiving reward.”^* In the cautious ambiguity of
the words, we still can see, as did the later sages, the denial
of the doctrine of resurrection. The sage does not denounce
it as heresy. He simply holds that its spread would
interfere with the highest morality of “virtue for virtue’s
sake.”
Whatever this politic evasion may have done to dull the
edge of the controversy in the time of Antigonus and imme-
154
THE PHARISEES
diately after, its effect was completely wiped out in the
turmoil of the Jewish resistance to the armed tyranny of
Antiochus Epiphanes, distinguished as the first of a long
line of religious persecutors of Judaism. The assimilationist
movement among the Jews was too slow for him; in his
efforts to hasten the consummation, he actually became
the unconscious and unwilling instrument of their salvation.
The listless and passive opposition to Hellenism, which had
been initiated by Simeon the Righteous, Antigonus of
Socho, Ben Sira and others, would in all probability have
failed to catch up with the natural influence of environ-
ment; it was suddenly stimulated into furious zeal. Jewish
piety had, until this point, been contemptuously ignored by
the conqueror; it now became punishable with death. The
bodies of the “criminals” remained unburied; synagogues
were burned. The scrolls of the Law were desecrated and
destroyed. Thousands of Jews, forbidden to practice their
ancient customs and observances, fled to the paleolithic
caves which abound in the land. The rage of the tyrant
sought them out even there.
As they were faced with extinction and did not dare to
anticipate the incredible victory which ultimately came, the
vague and incipient suspicion of the Hasideans that their
kingdom was not of this world, crystallized into rigid belief.
It was now clear to them that all must perish before better
times would come. The doctrine of the resurrection which
had been held by a few eccentrics and progressives spread
to ever wider circles. The writer of the Book of Daniel
asserted it proudly and assured the dying martyrs that they
would be called back to life eternal, while their oppressors
also would be revived, but for everlasting derision and
contempt.^^
DOCTRINE OF RESURRECTION AND IMMORTALITY 155
That the writer of Daniel was an inhabitant of Jerusalem,
hailing from plebeian rather than patrician circles, is im-
plicit in the text. The sin which fills up the measure of
Nebuchadnezzar's wickedness and brings about his expulsion
from among men was not of the kind which could ever
have awakened either the astonishment or resentment of an
oriental noble. Arrogance was so proper to an aristocrat
as actually to escape his attention. And the man who
denounced it in the great king could be addressing himself
only to the lowly. ‘"The king spoke and said: ‘Is not this
great Babylon, which I have built for a royal dwelling-
place by the might of my power, and for the glory of my
majesty?' While the word was in the king's mouth, there
fell a voice from heaven: ‘O king Nebuchadnezzar, to thee
it is spoken: the kingdom is departed from thee'" (Dan.
4.27). In his prayers Daniel speaks continuously of
Jerusalem rather than of the whole land. “0 Lord, accord-
ing to all Thy righteousness, let Thine anger and Thy
fury, I pray Thee, be turned away from Thy city,
Jerusalem, . . , and Thy people are become a reproach to
all that are round about us" (9.16). And then again, “O
Lord, hear, O Lord, forgive, O Lord, attend and do, defer
not for Thine own sake, 0 my God, because Thy name is
called upon Thy city and Thy people" (ibid. 19). He ad-
vises Nebuchadnezzar to save himself from impending
doom, not by ritual and prayer such as a patrician might
recommend, but by almsgiving, the virtue peculiarly dear
to the plebeian (4.24).
All remaining doubt that the plebeians were the first
adherents in Israel to the doctrine of resurrection must be
set at rest by a study of the actual events of the war. The
Hasideans were joined in their resistance to Antiochus by
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THE PHARISEES
the distinguished priestly family of Mattathias of Modin.
In slaying the Jew who was about to offer an idolatrous
sacrifice and the Syrian officer who was superintending the
ceremony, the aged Mattathias raised the standard of revolt.
These priests combined in themselves religious zeal with
great worldly ability and a hypnotic power of leadership.
They were not the men to endure present oppression and
persecution in the prospect of other-worldly restitution.
Such was the contagious effect of their example that for a
time they overcame even the passivity of the Hasideans,
rousing them out of their dreams of consolation to an active
assertion of their rights. The assassination of the apostate
and of the royal agent was the first blow in a bitter war,
which was not to end before the Syrian power in Judea had
been destroyed. Certain Hasideans who, having fled to the
wilderness, were attacked on the Sabbath by Syrian soldiers,
permitted themselves to be cut down in cold blood, rather
than violate the sacred day. "^And Mattathias and his
friends knew it, and they mourned over them exceedingly.
And one said to another. If we all do as our brethren have
done, and fight not against the Gentiles for our lives and
our ordinances, they will now quickly destroy us from off
the earth. And they took counsel on that day saying,
Whosoever shall come against us to battle on the Sabbath
day, let us fight against him, and we shall in no wise die as
our brethren died in the secret places” (I Macc. 1.39-41).
To the modern mind this decision seems to be the simplest
common sense; to the Hasidean it meant a moral revolution.
The thousand pietists who yielded themselves up to Syrian
attackers were under no delusion as to the fate which awaited
them. They had fled to the mountains in order to practice
DOCTRINE OF RESURRECTION AND IMMORTALITY 157
what was forbidden in the cities; their offense was punishable
with death. But, filled with the conviction of individual
resurrection and regarding this world as nothing more than
a prelude to a greater and finer life, they faced their execu-
tioners calmly and perhaps even cheerfully. The Has-
moneans who, under pressure of necessity, were prepared
to make a radical alteration in the interpretation of the
Sabbath law, were men of a different stamp. They were
warriors and diplomats, planning victory in this world,
instead of dreaming of compensation in the next.
Two mutually opposing ideals were momentarily united
in the rush of victory. But the forces of life continued, year
in, year out, to recreate those mutually hostile social and
religious forms which could never find ultimate reconcilia-
tion. The Hasidean saints, overwhelmed by the boldness
of the Hasmonean priests, were ready to forget for a time
what their class and experience represented. But life does
not forget. Gradually the cleavage between the plebeian
followers and the patrician leaders reasserted itself. Some
Hasideans broke away when Jonathan continued the war
after autonomy had been won. Others still remained loyal;
but their descendants were ultimately forced to withdraw
when Edng John Hyrkan openly broke with them.
The divergence was the same; it expressed itself in new
names. The Sadducees who rallied about the Hasmonean
House vehemently denied the resurrection, while the Phari-
sees, drawn essentially from among the descendants of the
earlier plebeians, as vehemently continued to affirm it.
The victory lay with the Pharisees. By their faith in the
life beyond death they won adherents throughout the Jewish
world. The Jews of the diaspora were almost altogether
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THE PHARISEES
Pharisaic; and in Palestine the Sadducees were reduced to
a few noble families^®
The rural farmers, among whom urban individualism had
made no inroads, were yet won to the soothing belief in
human immortality. No matter how much the peasant
might be lost in his family and his clan, he was easily brought
to an understanding of his own ego by the plebeian teacher
who came from Jerusalem. The doctrine of salvation,
through which Christianity was destined ultimately to
conquer the whole Roman Empire, was the means whereby
the Pharisee won the plebeians, at least of Judea, to himself.
But the Sadducee could not yield. His negation of the doc-
trine was not merely agnostic; it was religious, based, as we
have seen, on prophetic tradition. On the other hand, with
each war and each martyrdom, the Pharisaic devotion to
the new belief became more passionate, so that the Mishna
regards it as a cardinal teaching of Judaism and condemns
the dissenter to loss of future life.^‘
The Pharisees would not permit anyone denying it to
recite public prayers in their synagogues, and to make
certain of correct belief, they inserted at the beginning of
their main service an avowal of it.
“Thou art mighty, feeding the quick, quickening the
dead. Blessed art thou, O Lord, who dost quicken the
dead.”^’^
With the passing of years, the Pharisees, now more
sophisticated, accepted the Greek philosophic doctrine of
immortal souls, which renders belief in bodily resurrection
superfluous and unnecessary. Yet such had been the
struggle for the teaching of resurrection that it could no
DOCTRINE OF RESURRECTION AND IMMORTALITY 159
longer be forgotten. They continued to profess the older
faith in a renewed world peopled with the revived dead,
and at the same time denied that man can truly be said to
die. The logical contradiction involved remained a puzzling
and disturbing factor in rabbinic theology, and also in
Christianity which is — in this respect — derived from it.
IX. THE ANGELS*
The social forces which, between the years 400 and 100
B.C.E., revolutionized the Jewish doctrine of the hereafter,
also gave rise to a new angelology totally different from
that of pre-exilic religion.^ Michael, Gabriel, Raphael, and
the host of other winged creatures, whose names fill the
pages of Pharisaic, rabbinic and Christian writings, were
quite unknown to the early biblical records. Human in
almost every aspect of life, in desire, passion, ambition, and
even in form and susceptibility to temptation, they had
nothing in common with the impersonal “angel of the
Lord” who figures so prominently in the patriarchal tales
of Genesis. He was a manifestation of God, without will
or character, altogether incapable of willfulness or dis-
obedience, and existing only as representative of his Master.
They, somewhat after the manner of the Olympian gods
and goddesses, combined in themselves the moral frailty of
man with the physical strength of deity. The Creator had
endowed them with enormous power, immortal life and
incomparably quick motion; whether they used these gifts
to serve Him or to rebel against Him lay in their own
choice. The true analogue in the later theology to the
patriarchal “angel of the Lord,” was the “Divine Presence”
{Shekinah) of rabbinic Judaism and in a sense the “Holy
Ghost” of Christianity; nothing but the name unites this
“angel” with the “watchers,” “holy ones” and other semi-
divine beings of Pharisaism and its derivative doctrines.
* Cf. Supplement, pp. 744, 751-753.
THE ANGELS
161
Childish as the whole concept of angels may seem in
the sophistication of an industrial age, its varied forms were
essential to the happiness and spiritual adjustment of
many generations. In fact, the belief in them may serve as
an index to the growth of the Jewish mind as it emerged
slowly from early faltering monotheism to the comparative
maturity of Pharisaism and Rabbinism.
In the most primitive biblical records, God Himself is
described in bold anthropomorphisms. He walks through
the Garden in the cool of the day (Gen. 3.8) ; He descends
from heaven to see the tower which the men of Shinar
are building (ibid. 11.5); He is described as fearing that man,
grown wise, may also obtain eternal life and become the
equal of Himself (ibid. 3.22). In the dawn of prophetic
religion, these tales were no longer taken literally; yet,
imbedded in the consciousness of the people, they could
not be completely eradicated. Hence the “angel of the
Lord” is substituted for God in various passages. Neither
the writer nor the reader attached any clear meaning
to the periphrasis, but it soothed the pious ear to impute
physical appearance to an “angel” rather than to the
Deity. Similar devices were invented, centuries later,
when the translators of Scripture sought to conceal the
anthropomorphisms which biblical writers had retained. In
the Aramaic version, otherwise slavishly literal, not God,
but the “Word of the Lord,” walks in the Garden of Eden
(Gen. 3.8). The vivid Hebrew text says that when Noah
entered the ark, “The Lord shut him in” (ibid. 7.16).
But the Aramaic prefers the more vague, theological ex-
pression: “And the Lord protected him with His word.”
The Scriptures say bluntly, “And the Lord repented Him
that He had made man on the earth” (ibid. 6.6). But the
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THE PHARISEES
translator, recoiling from the imputation of fickleness to
God, renders the verse: ‘*And the Lord repented in His
Word that he had made man.” Theologians have untiringly-
sought to impress metaphysical reality on these pious
circumlocutions. Treatises have been -written on the Mewra
(word) of the humble Aramaic translators. The nature of
the “angel of the Lord” is still a fertile subject for dis-
cussion and controversy among exegetes. Yet the obvious
fact is that no contemporary reader was misled by the
terms, angel, word. Divine Presence, Divine Glory, or
Holy Spirit. Writers and speakers used them not to
convey meaning, but to soften the harshness of bold
imagery, just as modern government officials in difficult
situations make a feint of hiding their identities behind
fictitious “spokesmen.” Such is the human passion for self-
delusion that what cannot be said without offense of the
principal may frequently be attributed without harm to
the agent.
The invention of such an “angel of the Lord” was the
easier in an age which had no clear conception of self or
individuality. In a sense almost incomprehensible to us a
servant was considered part of his master, a child of its
parents, a wife of her husband.® An owner’s responsibility
for depredations committed by his ox did not arise merely
from possible negligence, but was explained by identifying
the beast with the master himself. Hence partial restitution
had to be made for damages done by a tame animal (Ex.
21.35). A vicious ox could be tried in court together with
his master and might be sentenced to death. The owner too
was declared guilty of death, but ransom might be per-
mitted him (Ex. 21.29 ff.). The children of a maid-
servant belonged to her mistress in almost a physical sense.
THE ANGELS
163
Sarah beseeches Abraham to take her maid, Hagar, as
second wife, that “I shall be builded up through her”
(Gen. 16.2). Likewise Rachel, being barren, gives her
handmaid, Bilhah, to Jacob, “and she may bear upon my
knees, and I also may be builded up through her” (ibid.
30.3). When Judah’s oldest son dies childless, the second
son is commanded to cohabit with the widow, so as to
raise offspring for his dead brother. “But Onan knew that
the seed would not be his; and it came to pass, when he
went in unto his brother’s wife, that he spilled it on the
ground, lest he should give seed to his brother” (ibid. 38,9).
Paternity no more than motherhood was physical and
individual; the personalities of the brothers were confused
like those of mistress and servant.
Among people of this psychological immaturity, the term
“angel” could be used to suggest a being altogether depend-
ent on God, having no will or desire of his own, and yet
partly capable of independent action and appearance.
Rising monotheism found the “angel” a convenient
substitute for the numina or spirits and gods of mythology.
Just as the medieval Christians transformed local gods into
saints and evil spirits, so the ancient Israelites, yielding to
prophetic monotheism, saved their beloved ancestral myths
by attributing them to “angels.” A more sophisticated
age might have objected to such further confusion, but the
Hebrews were easily contented in matters of abstract
theology. They remained as vague about God and the
angels as were the Greeks about Apollo and the sun or
Alpheus and his river. Even today we accept with equanim-
ity the continual identification of agents with principals
and secretaries with employers. Our ancestors, living
before the days of radical individualism and philosophical
164
THE PHARISEES
theologies, were still less aware of any fiction in such a
merger of personalities. They could speak of angels in the
same context, now as separate from God, now as identical
with Him, with no more concern about the metaphysics
involved than is Shaw’s theatrical audience when he calls
out before it the disembodied spirit of Joan of Arc.
The fascinating narrative of God’s visit to Abraham
offers an excellent illustration of this. Abraham sitting in
the door of his tent, in the heat of the day, lifts up his
eyes and sees ‘"three men standing over against him” (Gen.
18.2). He is under no misapprehension regarding the true
nature of these guests; he realizes at once that they are
representatives of a single Divine Being. He shows this by
addressing them first in the singular, collectively, as it were,
and then in the plural, as he thinks of their individual,
physical needs. “My Lord,” he says, “if now I have found
favor in thy sight, pass not away, I pray thee, from thy
servant. Let now a little water be fetched, and wash your
feet, and recline yourselves under the tree.”
The disconcerting change of number is not to be explained
by the usual critical devices of emendation or division of
documents. No reasonable text student would justify the
wanton change of all the grammatical forms in the second
verse to make them correspond to the singular used in the
beginning. Nor is it a happier solution of the problem to
cut the obviously uniform story into two halves, deriving
each from a separate source. But the difficulty is not at
all inherent; it arises only from an effort to impose mod-
ern categories of thought on an author to whom they are
quite foreign. As in the story of Jacob wrestling with the
angel (Gen. 32.25), we have in this theophany a mono-
theistic parallel to a tale, in which the superhuman power
THE ANGELS
165
was not an angel, but a numen or god. Some commen-
tators have recogni2ed this, but they have failed to draw the
reasonable inference that the purpose of including the
story in the Pentateuch is to reconcile the current legend
with monotheistic doctrine. The narrator instead of chal-
lenging the ancient story, accepts its essentials, but removes
its mythological overtones. Abraham did indeed see three
men; but they were not gods; they were only angels or
messengers of the One God, who at this time chose to
manifest Himself through them. Why should not God
manifest Himself through three angels rather than one?
The skillful author emphasizes this point, by attributing
to Abraham the grammatically awkward, but psychologi-
cally natural, use of singular and plural forms in the same
brief sentence. The Patriarch, astonished by his great
visitor, begs Him not to pass by; and then thinking of the
three individuals, he speaks of them as separate from one
another. So we say, “man is” or “men are” mortal,
changing naturally from singular to plural as we think of
the species or the persons composing it. An individualistic
age, oppressed by its conception of personality, might
find it difficult to envisage God descending to earth
as more than one being. But the ancient, accustomed
from birth to regard his tribe as a single unit, expressing
its personality in an eponym, its alliances in legendary
marriages, and its divisions in genealogical tables, had no
such trouble.®
It may seem to us that if Abraham recognized ffie divinity
of his visitors, there was no special merit in his liberality
toward them. Who would not, after aU, be hospitable to
God and His angels? Wherein lay the sharp contrast,
obviously intended by Scripture, between the generosity
166
THE PHARISEES
of Abraham and the baseness of Sodom, if he knew his
guests and the Sodomites did not?
But, paradoxically, only a generation of diminished faith
could suppose that a saint would act differently toward
divine angels than toward fellow-men. Like an orphaned
child, who imagines that if he had a mother he would give
her all his love and duty, so we, living in an age of shaken
faith, suppose that given unquestioning belief, the world's
moral problem would be solved. The man of antiquity
knew better. Absolutely convinced as he was of God's
existence, power, and omniscience, he yet found it impos-
sible to escape from sin. Aware that he was always in the
presence of God whether or not God appeared to him, he
was continually yielding to one temptation or another and
consequently knew directly and intuitively what we must
learn from patient study and science, namely, that moral
backsliding results not from intellectual scepticism alone,
but frequently from deeper impulses against which the
mind Itself is helpless. The Cains, the Sodomites, the
Nabals, and the Absaloms, the men of the Deluge and the
men of the Tower, like the Davids and the Solomons, were
all convinced theists, as our ancestors recognized. But
knowing their Master, they either rebelled against Him or
suffered temporary lapses of loyalty. The oppressor and
betrayer acted not from heresy or ignorance, but from
willfulness and arrogance. It is only in modern times that
the self-centered and the cynical cover themselves with the
borrowed masque of metaphysical agnosticism; among our
ancestors, injustice and immorality, perhaps more common
than today, lacked the metaphysical and anti-theological
accoutrements with which a ""little philosophy" has now
provided them.
THE ANGELS
167
High merit therefore attached among the ancients to those
whoj convinced like their fellows of God’s being, were more
gentle, pious and just. In giving the angels cordial greeting,
Abraham was acting as he might have done to any other
traveler. The stranger was under the special protection of
God; to treat him with kindness was to recognize the divine
authority, just as to be cruel to him was to flout it. Abra-
ham’s courtesy and liberality were not a whit the less note-
worthy because they happened to be extended to God’s
messengers; just as his willingness to sacrifice Isaac was
none the less heroic because it was made at the express
behest of God,
The confusion of persons, begun in the story of Abraham’s
theophany, is continued in the story of the angels after they
turn to Sodom. Abraham '"stood yet before the Lord. And
Abraham drew near, and said: "Wilt Thou indeed sweep
away the righteous with the wicked.^’” (Gen. 18.22 ff.).
The question is addressed not to the angels, but to God
Himself, perhaps as manifested in the third angel, who did
not go to Sodom. In Sodom the angels appear once more
both as independent beings and as spokesmen for the Deity.
""And when the morning arose, then the angels hastened
Lot, saying: "Arise, take thy wife, and thy two daughters
that are here; lest thou be swept away in the iniquity of the
city.’ But he lingered; the men laid hold upon his hand,
and upon the hand of his wife, and upon the hand of his
two daughters; the Lord being merciful unto him. And they
brought him forth and set him without the city. And it
came to pass, when they had brought him forth abroad that
he said: "Escape for thy life; look not behind thee, neither
stay thou in all the Plain; escape to the mountain, lest thou
be swept away.’ And Lot said unto themx ^Oh, not so, my
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THE PHARISEES
lord\ behold now, thy servant hath found grace in thy sight,
and thou hast magnified thy mercy, which thou hast shown
unto me in saving my life; and I cannot escape to the
mountain, lest some evil overtake me and I die. Behold
now, this city is near to flee unto, and it is a little one;
oh, let me escape thither — is it not a litde one? — and my
soul shall live.’ And he said unto him: ‘See, I have accepted
thee concerning this thing also, that I will not overthrow
the city of which thou hast spoken’ ” (Gen. 19.15 ff.).
The talmudic Sages who, like some later exegetes, seek to
force logical analysis on the simple story, are astounded at
the arrogance of the angel’s speech,^ for according to later
theology, it lay not with him but with God to spare or
destroy. The biblical writer was not aware of any wrong,
for the angel is here speaking not for himself, but for his
Master, of whose personality he is but part.
Throughout the early scriptural records we find the same
vague delineation of God and angels. At the sacrifice of
Isaac, the “angel of the Lord” calls from heaven and says,
“By Myself have I sworn, saith the Lord, because thou
hast done this thing, and hast not withheld thy son, thine
only son, that in blessing I will bless thee” (Gen. 22.15 IF.).
God’s appearance to Moses in the burning bush is de-
scribed in these words: “And the angel of the Lord appeared
unto him in a flame of fire out of the midst of a
bush; . . . and when the Lord saw that he turned aside to
see, God called unto him from the midst of the bush, and
said: ‘Moses, Moses’ .... Moreover He said: ‘I am the God
of thy father, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and
the God of Jacob’ ” (Ex. 3.2 ff.).
Hagar, comforted by the angel who was sent to her,
“called the name of YHWH who spoke to her. Thou art
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169
a God of seeing” (Gen. 16.13). One of the oldest sections
of the Book of Judges tells us that “an angel of the Lord
came up from Gilgal to Bochim. And he said: ‘. . . I made
you go up out of Egypt, and have brought you unto the
land which I swore unto your fathers’ ” (2.1).
So completely did the ancient Hebrew disregard the
angel’s personal existence that he gave him no identifying
name. He was the “angel of the Lord” and nothing more.
Fearful lest angelology revert to polytheism, the mono-
theists insisted on this anonymity emphatically and vigor-
ously. They twice remind us in Scripture that the angels
are impersonal or, to use their language, nameless (Gen.
29.30; Judg. 13.18). Both Jacob and Manoah asked the
names of the angels who appeared to them, and neither
obtains a satisfactory answer. Another passage expresses
the same thought by telling us that the angel bears the name
of God “in him” (Ex. 23.21).
The use of the name as signifying personality is common
among primitive tribes. The Scriptures themselves tell
how the whole life of Abraham and Sarah was altered
through the change of their names. Sarai was sterile;
Sarah would be fruitful. Abram could father only the wild
Ishmael; Abraham would be ancestor to Israel (Gen.
17.5, 15). Jacob became Israel not through his own an-
nouncement or through a judicial order, but by a decree
of God Himself (ibid. 32.28). He was recreated, as it were.
The levirate marriage derived its meaning according to
Deuteronomic law from the rule that the child born of it
“shall succeed in the name of his brother that is dead”
(Deut. 25.6). This does not mean, as we might suppose
from some translations, that the child must be called after
his deceased uncle or merely that he inherited his uncle’s
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THE PHARISEES
property. He became, rather, as we have already noticed
in the story of Judah, the son of the deceased uncle by
posthumous adoption (Gen. 38.8). So persistent is the con-
ception of the name as equivalent to personality that to
this day it is customary among observant Jews to change
the name of one who is dangerously ill.® R. Meir (ca. 150
C.E.) would judge people’s characters from their names;®
and as late a source as the IBook of the Pious (thirteenth
century) tells us, “A name may cause evil or good. The
names of some people inevitably lead to greatness, as it is
written, ‘And may there be called in them my name and the
name of my fathers, Abraham and Isaac.’ ” In the same
book readers are warned not to visit sick namesakes, lest
the death destined for their friend be transferred to them.’
Among the soul’s terrors after death, the cabalists enumerate
amnesia, the inability to identify itself by name; and many
a Jew still endeavors to save himself from this possible
calamity by reciting, at the end of his prayers, a verse from
Scripture beginning with the first letter of his name and
ending with its last letter.®
These random examples, taken from various times and
places, indicate how enduring and pervasive has been the
traditional identification of name and individuality. We
can now readily see why the early writers of Scripture,
endeavoring beyond all else to protect their monotheistic
teaching, stress the absolute anonymity and impersonality
of the angels. But to advancing monotheism even nameless
angels seemed too great a concession to mythology. This
was especially true among the increasingly influential and
articulate plebeians who recoiled from the concept of ani-
mate and intelligent beings without a personality of their
own. The angels of theology were in their eyes heavenly
THE ANGELS
171
analogues of the slaves of human society. Passionately
devoted to freedom, they could not impute to God the slave-
holding which they considered an imperfection in human
society. Driven thus to choose between conscious and
immortal equals of the Deity, which would have been poly-
theism, and the equally objectionable monotheism with
impersonal servants, the prophets, from Hosea in the eighth
century to Zechariah at the end of the sixth, all avoid the
mention of angels. Isaiah does indeed describe the birdlike
seraphs who hover around God’s throne (6.6), and Ezekiel
the animate Wheels and Beasts of His magnificent Chariot
(1.5 ff.). But since these were not human in form, their
subjection was ethically unobjectionable. Ezekiel also twice
speaks of ‘‘men” acting as divine intermediaries (10.2;
40.3), but significantly declines to denominate them angels.
Clearly the religious teachers of the period felt that the
concept itself, invented as a compromise with the more
primitive mythology, should be forgotten. This was all the
easier inasmuch as the later prophetic following was almost
entirely plebeian and largely urban, concentrated in Jeru-
salem. Such a community was removed from the “groves”
and rural life, which were foci for tales of elim and numina.
For them the “angel” had outlived his raison d'ttre^ and
was readily consigned to oblivion.®
After the deportation to Babylonia, the prophetic teach-
ing in regard to angels as in other matters ceased to be uni-
form. Exposed to a new world with new ideas, a new culture,
and new problems, the exiles and their descendants inevitably
developed different concepts from those current among
their brethren and cousins whom Nebuchadnezzar had left
behind in Palestine. Institutions which in Palestine ap-
peared neutral or assimilatory because they were common
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THE PHARISEES
to all the inhabitants, assumed in the foreign Babylonian
environment, where they were unknown to the general
population, the status of covenants between God and His
chosen people. The Sabbath, circumcision and the sacrificial
system, the observance of which the Palestinian prophets
had taken for granted as part of the country’s cultural life
and involving no superior piety, became symbols of identi-
fication with the Jewish community and of resistance to
assimilation.^'* Hence the wide difference between Jeremiah
and Ezekiel in their attitude toward the ceremonial law, the
priests, the Temple and the sacrifices. Jeremiah is always
critical of the institutions and their observance; Ezekiel
insists on their value and importance. Somewhat similarly
the concept of angels from which Jeremiah and his con-
temporaries recoiled, lest they give unintentional encourage-
ment to legends about elim and numina, was restored to
Jewish theology in Babylonia. While in Palestine an in-
dividualized angel might be regarded as a concession to
rural mythology, in Babylonia he was essential as a reinter-
pretation of the good and evil spirits of current national
thought. Just as the earliest Israelitish thinkers had invented
the “angel of the Lord” to replace the legendary numina^
so their Babylonian successors needed the concept in a
developed form as a substitute for the genii of their new
neighbors. Older prophets like Ezekiel who had been born
and reared in Palestine were hesitant and cautious regarding
the revitalized notion; they avoided the dangerous and
forbidden word malak (angel) and spoke of mediating “men”
{is}i)P- But the younger teachers, who had never known
any civilization but that of their native Babylonia, freely
developed a new angelology without fear or care for the
forgotten issues of another land and earlier days.
THE ANGELS
173
During the century after Cyrus" decree (538-~ca. 430
B.C.E.)j the continual influx of these teachers from Baby-
lonia into Palestine brought the new doctrine to the ancient
soil. But the Judaites whom Nebuchadnezzar had left
behind on their native hills and who had remained loyal to
ancient prophetic teaching through half a century of foreign
domination, could not accept the alien doctrine. Hence
we find throughout the Persian and Greek periods two
parallel streams of thought in Palestine, the one continually
developing the new angelology, the other as consistently
rejecting it. The difference associated itself with other dis-
agreements till the two antagonistic groups culminated the
one in Pharisaism, the other in Sadducism.
Among the prophets who returned from Babylonia to
Palestine, the foremost was Zechariah,^^ the years
520-516 B.C.E. urged the members of the new common-
wealth to carry out the plan of building the Temple. For
the first time in the history of literary prophecy, we have in
him a teacher who receives God"s word not directly but
through an intermediary angel. The ^‘angel who speaks to
me"" is a continual concept in his teaching. He is the first
in Jewish literature to mention Satan, the angel of evil,
who clearly replaced for him the Zoroastrian Ahriman. He
hears Satan complain to God of Joshua, the High Priest,
and rejoices at the reprimand with which the baseless
charges are received (3.2). Some decades later, the name-
less apocalyptist of Isaiah 24-27, the prophet who for the
first time suggests a future resurrection (26.19), speaks of
a judgment day over angels as well as over men, ''And it
shall come to pass in that day, that the Lord will punish
the host of the high heaven on high, and the kings of earth
upon the earth"" (24.21).
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THE PHARISEES
There is little in common between these sinful, fallible
creatures and the mysterious impersonal strangers who
appear to Abraham, Jacob and Manoah. These new angels
are not “spokesmen” for God, but His courtiers and min-
isters. They worship and praise Him; they make ofEcial
obeisance to Him; they tremblingly await His mighty nod;
and are each prepared to carry out His imperious will,
whether to slay or heal, to bind or loose, to guard or destroy.
In short, the angelology postulates a Divine Court in heaven
similar to that of the Great King on earth. Obviously the
Jews living under Persian rule, animated by the same
sensitivity which made them call their God “King of the
kings of kings, to contrast Him with the Persian ruler
who was but a “king of kings,” also endowed Him with a
retinue suitable to His foremost rank, exceeding in power
and glamor anything visible on earth. The Jew whose self-
respect was wounded when he thought of his dispersed and
weak people, of his tiny and dependent Commonwealth-—
an insignificant portion of the vast stretches of the Persian
Empire — consoled himself with the thoughts of his God’s
endless might.
Originating in the life of Babylonia, this picture remained
a consolation to the plebeian of the restored Jerusalem. The
children and grandchildren of the returning exiles were
driven by the inexorable demands of human self-respect to
enlarge and broaden the canvas, filling in its details and
making vivid its colors.
Given this magnificent imagery, the Jewish cobbler could
sit at his awl in Jerusalem, as in Babylon or Ecbatana, and
listen with unperturbed patience and inner contempt to the
derision heaped on him by Persian or Greek; for he had a
secret in which they had no part; they served a passing
THE ANGELS
175
power, he an eternal God, Their king had thousands, per-
haps myriads, of soldiers, all of them mortal; but his
Ruler had innumerable phalanxes of immortal angels. He
could suffer with all the poise of an unrecognized prince,
treated basely for the moment, but soon to be elevated into
glory by his Father’s emissaries.
The vision, so enticing to the plebeian artisan, could
hardly be as pleasing to the patrician landowner, who was
himself part of the government. The High Priest, at ease
in the Temple and in his palace, needed no imagined
Kingdom of God to save his self-respect. Only those at
the bottom of the social ladder have to find their escape
in dreams and visions; those who ascend a few rungs can
expand their suppressed ego by a momentary glance at the
many beneath them. The meanest Persian or Greek soldier
shared in the glories of Xerxes or Alexander and found in
that superiority full repayment for his own debasement.
And similarly the Jewish official who received some recog-
nition from the alien rule, and the patrician priest or land-
owner who played the part of a little king in his own domain,
found life in this world entirely to his liking. Angelology
like the resurrection was a deep-seated psychological need
of the market place and the shop; the mansion and the
palace were hesitant to accept it.
While the plebeian teacher traced the origin of his con-
soling doctrine to the prophet Zechariah, the patrician
found equal authority for his vehement negation of angels
not only in pre-exilic prophecy, but in Deutero-Isaiah and
his followers. The Babylonian exiles had restored the for-
gotten angels, and even endowed them with the new gifts
of personality and individuality. But the Palestinian
prophets had remained loyal to the doctrines of Amos,
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Isaiah, Micah and Jeremiah. Like these great preachers,
Deutero-Isaiah never mentions the angels; neither does
Haggai, the contemporary co-worker of Zechariah. Both of
these prophets, it can be shown, were Palestinian natives,
and were thus free from Babylonian influence.^® They were
not satisfied to be silent on the subject; they actively
opposed the Babylonian innovation. Deutero-Isaiah does
not speak of angels, but quite pointedly uses the word
malak, by which they had been designated, for prophets.
It is as if he would say, the divine messengers of whom
our ancient authorities speak are not the Gabriels and
Michaels with whom the Babylonian Jews identify them,
but human prophets. Thus he cries out:
“Who is blind but My servant.
Or deaf, but the messenger (malak) whom I send”
(42.19).
And again:
“That confirmeth the word of His servant.
And performeth the counsel of His messengers” (44.26),
once more using malak for prophet.
This might be taken as mere rhetoric, did we not find a
more emphatic, almost polemical, statement on the subject
in Haggai, where one of the prophecies is introduced with
the words, “Then said Haggai the malak of the Lord, as
malak of the Lord” (1.13). When we bear in mind that at
that very time Zechariah was attributing his inspiration to
a mediating malak, the contrast, clearly intended, makes
the otherwise redundant and unintelligible phrase
significant.
The controversy is dramatized in the Book of Job, where
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177
the hero does not once mention the angels, although his
friends refer to them frequently.^®
Further traces of controversy on this subject in the
meager records preserved from the Second Commonwealth
are abundant, though somehow they have escaped obser-
vation and correlation. In addition to Deutero-Isaiah and
Haggai, already mentioned, Ben Sira and the writer of the
Book of Esther among the authors of this period, apparently
negate the existence of the angels, whereas Malachi and the
writers of Chronicles, Enoch, Tobit, Daniel, the Book of
Jubilees, and the Testament of the Twelve Patriarchs,
affirm it.^^
Of the composite works, like Psahns and Proverbs, the
doctrine is affirmed in some sections and denied in others.^*
For instance, in Psalms 34, 78, 91, 103 and 104, the angels
play an important role; elsewhere they remain unmentioned
though some reference to them could readily be expected.
As with regard to the resurrection, Ben Sira is out-
spoken and propagandist where his predecessors condemn
by mere silence. The belief in Satan outrages him most.
‘'When the fool curseth Satan,
He curseth his own soul” (21.27).
There is no angelic force outside of man to draw him to
sin, for “God created man from the beginning and placed
him in the hands of his inclination (jezer ) ; if thou desirest
thou canst keep the commandment” (15.14).
In direct opposition to these denials, the writers of Enoch
not only assert the existence of the angels, but declare
those who deny them heretics. “And this is the second
Similitude concerning those who deny the name of the
dwelling of the holy ones and the Lord of spirits. They will
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not ascend into the heaven, and on earth they will not
come” (Enoch 45.1). The writer of the Testaments of the
Twelve Patriarchs is even more emphatic; “Become not,
my children,” he makes Asher say, “like the men of Sodom
which knew not the angels of the Lord and perished for-
ever” (7.1). To this Pharisaic writer it seemed that the
main sin of the Sodomites was not the inhospitality which
Scripture imputed to them, nor yet the perversion of justice
of which the talmudic sages accuse them,'® but their heret-
ical refusal to recognize the angels who came to them!
We cannot here enter into a sociological analysis of the
books in which the angels are mentioned and those which
ignore them. But even a cursory examination reveals the
highly significant fact that the writers asserting the resur-
rection all believe in angels: Daniel, Enoch, the Testaments
of the Twelve Patriarchs, and, we may add, the Apoca-
lypse in Isaiah 24—27. Of the other books, the plebeian
origin of Zechariah with his definite and artisan images; of
Job, with its ringing cry for human equality and the rights
of the oppressed; of Chronicles, with its untiring assertion
of the rights of the Levites, the lower plebeian clergy, as
opposed to the Aaronids, is obvious. (The Book of Jubilees
is indeed in a class by itself. Its author, a Sadducean,
perhaps a priestly aristocrat, is an obvious seeker for com-
promise between the sects. He accepts Pharisaic angelology
and even immortality, but would have his followers forgo
the belief in resurrection, which was the fundamental issue
between the rival sects.*®)
Of the books opposing angelology, the patrician origin of
Ben Sira, the ardent opponent also of the teaching of
resurrection, need not be argued. Joel’s ritualism as well as
the whole tone of his prophecy with its manifest sympathy
THE ANGELS
179
for priests and farmers, stamp him as country bred and
patrician. We have but to compare his call to repentance
through fasting and prayer with Malachi's demand for
justice to the poor, to see that they derived from dia-
metrically opposed social strata.^i The vivid and detailed
description of court life in the Book of Esther, as well as
its combination of ceremonialism with worldliness, which
will be discussed more fully below,^^ leave little doubt of
its aristocratic origin. We have arrayed against each other
two groups of writers; the one priestly and aristocratic,
denying the angels; the other, plebeian and Levitical, con-
tinually and vehemently asserting their existence.^^
This accords fully with the fact, recorded in the x^cts of
the Apostles (23.8), that in later times the Sadducees,
following as usual the traditions of wealth and aristocracy,
opposed the doctrine of angels, while the Pharisees defended
it. "‘For the Sadducees say that there is no Resurrection,
neither angel nor spirit; while the Pharisees confess both.’'
The source is admittedly late, but the information it con-
tains cannot, therefore, be impugned. No Greek writer
could have invented such a controversy between the sects.
We must understand, of course, that the Sadducean nega-
tion of angelology was not complete. They accepted the
Scriptures; and the earliest records of the Pentateuch
mention the “angel of the Lord.” But, inheriting the
patrician teachings of their forefathers, the Sadducees
denied the elaborate angelology which finds its expression
in Zechariah, Job, Tobit, the Enoch Literature, the Book
of Jubilees and the Testaments of the Twelve Patriarchs.
Pharisaic angelology, as consoling to believers as the
doctrine of resurrection, was less adapted for missionary
purposes. The rich farmer could be persuaded of the value
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of resurrection; he was enticed by immortality even if it
had to be shared by his “inferiors.” But he saw no reason
for assigning personality to the slaves of the heavenly
court. He could think of the angels as related to God, as
his own servants were related to him; they were part ol
him. Hence there was not the unanimity among the neo-
Pharisees of the country regarding angels which we find
regarding resurrection. Yet, the Essenes, who were essen-
tially plebeian farmers of the Judean highlands, did accept
it and, according to Josephus, had a secret tradition
regarding “angels.”^*
It is true that neither Josephus nor the rabbinic sources
mention the controversy between the Pharisees and the
Sadducees regarding angels. Yet this silence cannot militate
against the authenticity of the record in the Book of Acts.
Josephus was writing for Greeks rather than for Jews, and
may have found difficulty in reconstructing the issue in
terms of the Stoic, Epicurean and Pythagorean philoso-
phies which he tries to impose on the Jewish sects. Foi
the same reason, he says nothing about the violent con-
flicts between the Sadducees and the Pharisees regarding
such matters as water-libations and laws of impurity.
The rabbinic records of the ancient controversies are
altogether too meager to give any validity to an argumentum
e silentio. They tell us nothing of the conflict regarding
Divine Providence which was fundamental to the whole
teaching of the Pharisees, nor do they clearly explain the
disagreement about the Oral Law.
But there was a special reason for the silence of the
sages about this controversy: they had ceased to be a unit
affirming the Pharisaic position. As Pharisaism absorbed
into itself the larger part of the nation, including a majority
THE ANGELS
181
of the provincials, the dispute about the angels was carried
over into its midst. The new semi-patrician Pharisees,
brought from farm and palatial home to the leadership of
the plebeian movement, could not adjust themselves to
the ordinary doctrine. Either they followed their fathers in
continuing to reject it, or they put upon it an interpretation
which their poorer colleagues considered blasphemous. The
result was a medley of opinion, which leaves the rabbinic
doctrine of angels the least clear in the whole of talmudic
theology. R. Ishmael, for instance, in two important
controversies expressed his disbelief in individual angels,
such as the older Pharisees had postulated. Both contro-
versies deal with the interpretation of verses in the Psalter.
R. Akiba (ca. 120 C.E.), like all modern commentators,
holds that the verse, ''Man did eat the bread of the Mighty'^
(Ps. 78.25), refers to the angels. When the interpretation
was reported to his colleague, R. Ishmael, he said, "Go out
and say to Akiba, You are in error! Do angels eat? The
verse speaks only of the food which is absorbed into all of
man's limbs-^^s To force the biblical words into his inter-
pretation, R. Ishmael changes the vowels in the received
text. Surely no one, least of all R. Ishmael, who prided
himself on his literalism and logical interpretation, would
do such violence to the traditional reading if he did not feel
an important issue was at stake. R. Ishmael simply could
not believe that the Psalmist described the angels as eating
bread; the picture was too anthropomorphic. But R. Akiba
found it altogether natural and in consonance with what
he, and many another scholar, believed. When we consider
that R. Ishmael was a descendant of a priestly family,
and one of the foremost of talmudic aristocrats, as well
as the founder of a school noted for its patrician leanings.
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while R. Akiba rose to learning from humble sheep-
tending and was the leading and most extreme exponent
of plebeian doctrine^ we realize the significance of this
controversy.
The same dogmatic controversy reappears in the dis-
cussion of Psalm 104.12, where the author, describing the
wild-life of Palestine, turns from the quadrupeds to the
winged species and sings: “Beside them dwell the fowl of
the heaven, from among the branches they sing.’’ R. Akiba,
more anxious to verify his theology than to indulge his
taste for poetry, takes the “fowl of the heaven” to mean
“the angels of service.” But R. Ishmael, insisting on a
literal interpretation of the verse, since this time it suits
his purposes, maintains that the Psalmist speaks of “the
birds who dwell in the trees, and who continually utter
the praise of God.”^®
Within the school of R. Akiba, but only slightly influenced
by him, sat the great patrician teacher of the next gener-
ation, R. Simeon ben Yohai. Like R. Ishmael, he was
passionately opposed to the belief in humanized angels. In
his brusque manner, he would curse those who, relying on
the sixth chapter of Genesis, spoke of sins between the
“sons of God” and the daughters of men.^^ The verse
refers to the “sons of the judges,” he held.
In another passage, R. Simeon unhesitatingly sweeps
away the whole structure which two centuries of mystic
speculation had built up about the Heavenly Chariot in
Ezekiel’s vision. From Hillel onward the plebeian scholars
had woven a great web of secret teaching about the
Heavenly Chariot, its living Wheels, and its conscious
Beasts. “R. Johanan ben Zakkai had received the tradi-
tion from Hillel; R. Joshua ben Hananya from R. Johanan
THE ANGELS
183
ben •Zakkai 3 "’ 2 ® each of the three being the most noted
plebeian teacher of his day. But R. Simeon ben Yohai,
standing firm on traditional patrician ground^ says: ^‘The
Patriarchs, they are the Chariot.’’ In other words, he
denies that there is any field for the whispered mysteries
or that the Beast and Wheels are anything but figures of
speech. They are prophetic visions allegorizing the ancestors
of Israel.29
While the views of R. Ishmael and R. Simeon prove
conclusively that a number of patrician and semi-patrician
teachers denied the fantastic angelology as forcibly as had
the Sadducees of earlier days, there was a group of rural
teachers who not only accepted the doctrine of angels, but
imagined them in such human form as even the plebeians
could not accept. This was altogether natural, for the
difficulty of the provincial sages lay in the fact that they
could not, like the plebeians, conceive of immaterial spirit.
Their simple common-sense minds yearned for the concrete
and the touchable; and recoiled from the abstract and
purely intellectual.
R. Judah ben Bathyra, one of their foremost represen-
tatives, describes Adam sitting in the Garden of Eden and
angels standing about '"roasting his meat, cooling his wine,”
and doing for him all other menial service.®*^ R. Pappias,
the rural teacher who shocked the more cultured sages by
locking his wife in the house when he left it, not even per-
mitting her to converse with male relatives,^^ interpreted
the verse: "Behold the man is become as one of us” (Gen.
3.22), in absolute literalness. "He was like unto the angels
of service,” R. Pappias says. R. Akiba, hearing this exegesis,
cried out, ‘‘Stop, Pappias. The Scriptures mean only that
man was like to the angels in that God placed before him
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THE PHARISEES
two ways, one of life and one of death, and he chose that
of death.”*^ In other words, man’s divinity consists in his
freedom of will and not in his combination of material
form and intellect.
R. Meir, who in other respects tended to agree with
R. Simeon, held a diametrically different view regarding the
angels. “When God appeared against the Egyptians,” he
says, “He came surrounded by nine thousand myriads of
angels of destruction; some of them angels of trembling,
some of them angels of fright, some of them angels of hail
and some of them angels of fire, so that whoever sees them
is overcome with terror.”^® R. Eliezer ben Hyrcanus paints
a similar picture of God at the Red Sea, surrounded by
hosts of material angels.®^ R. Nathan the Babylonian, the
close friend and colleague of R. Meir, says that Moses,
cleansed of the food in his entrails, was “like unto the
angels, implying that the divine beings differ from man not
in their lack of material form, but in their freedom from
the necessity of food.
R. Ishmael himself came to accept this view in the course
of time. He interpreted the verse, “Ye shall not make with
Me — gods of silver, or gods of gold, ye shall not make unto
you” (Ex. 20.20), as follows: “Ye shall not make the form
of any of My servants who wait on Me above: neither the
forms of angels, nor the forms of Wheels, nor the forms
of Cherubim.”®®
The anthropomorphic conception of the angels reached its
highest development in the apocalyptic literature,*®
especially the Book of Jubilees, which actually describes
some angels as circumcised.*^ The authoritative talmudic
teachers recoiled with horror from such fantasies. They
could not, however, reject the doctrine of anthropomorphic
THE ANGELS
185
angels altogether; and in their wavering between the con-
ceptions of non-personal and personal intermediaries
between God and man, they tended to reverse and con-
tradict themselves. Because of this it is impossible to
define “a rabbinic conception of angelology.” But there can
be little doubt that the subject was earnestly discussed in
rabbinic schools; and that some of them had definite and
pronounced views on the whole subject. R. Judah the
Patriarch, for instance, in his Mishna, zealously omitted all
references to mediating beings even when they were men-
tioned in the statements which he incorporated into his
text.®®
Such censorship, taken together with the forceful state-
ments of R. Ishmael and R. Simeon, seems to establish the
fact that even as late as the second and the third centuries
C.E. a heated discussion about the reality and the form of
the angels was being conducted in the academies. The
controversy, originally purely social, had now become
academic and intellectual; yet it still retained some signs of
its earliest economic class origin.
X. THE SIMPLE LIFE
According to Josephus one of the foremost characteristics
of the Pharisees was that “they lived meanly and despised
delicacies in diet/'^ This report is amply confirmed by the
rabbinic record, which preserves the taunt of the Sadducees,
“The Pharisees are bound by tradition to deny themselves
the pleasures of this world; yet in the future world they
will also have nothing/'^
It has usually been assumed that both Josephus and the
Talmud refer to the poverty of the Pharisees, which pre-
vented them from indulging in the luxury of the upper
classes. But we know that not all the Pharisees were poor;
and, quite aside from that, the records present the Pharisaic
attitude as a matter of principle. The Sadducean taunt
would lose all its meaning, if the Pharisees had no choice
about their mode of life; and even Josephus would hardly
say that they “despised delicacies in diet,'" if he meant
that they could not afford good food.
The controversy becomes fully intelligible, however, in
the light of the earlier struggles between the plebeians and
the patricians. Hundreds of years before the rise of Phari-
saism, the plebeians had already inveighed against the use
of luxuries by their opponents; and we may be sure that
in those early days, as well as in the second century B.C.E.,
the patricians replied with sardonic taunts of one form or
another. Indeed we can trace the struggle between the
groups on this question back to the very entrance of the
Hebrews into Canaan.® The nomads who broke into the
186
THE SIMPLE LIFE
187
settled country and found themselves in the presence of its
richer and more highly developed civilization, were by no
means ready to abandon their old life in favor of the new.
Dire need had compelled these nomads to forsake the tradi-
tional homes of their ancestors in the wilderness and to seek
partial means of support from agriculture. But like the
Nabataeans of Diodorus, they still considered it degrading
and impious to build houses and cities, to plant vines and
trees, to wear ornaments of gold and silver, to ride on horses
and to possess chariots.^ They could not believe that their
God would delight in a well-built Temple; or that He would
permit Himself to be represented in statues of stone,® or
wood, or gold; or that He would accept rich offerings in
preference to those which they were accustomed to give
Him. As they adapted themselves to the soil, some of them
forgot these purist doctrines; yet among those who remained
in the stony Judean highlands and in the pastoral lands of
Transjordan there was a majority who retained the ancient
tradition. They ascribed the building of the first cities in
history to the fratricide Cain (Gen. 4.17) and the arrogant
men of Shinar, who wanted to make themselves a name
(ibid. 11.4). They considered it a superior merit in Jacob
that “he was a simple man, dwelling in tents,’" while his
brother, Esau, combined in himself the wickedness of the
primordial hunter and the civilized agriculturist (ibid.
25.27). Long after these nomads had been settled in
Palestine, they continued to abstain from the gold and
silver nose rings which were the pride of the Canaanite
patricians, and for centuries insisted on retaining the
characteristic long, uncut hair, which was the mark of
their highland peasantry.®
These tabus against innocent luxuries were explained in
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THE PHARISEES
various ways. It was said that Jacob had ordered his
children to surrender their golden ornaments so as to be
purified from the contamination of idolatry (Gen. 35.4);
and also that the Israelites had used their ornaments
to make the Golden Calf in Sinai (Ex. 32.3).^ But the
objection to them was, doubtless, more fundamental than
either incident would indicate; the possession of nose
rings and other jewels was a sign of patricianship and a
deviation from the purity and simplicity of nomadic
plebeian life.
It was quite natural that the Israelites should encourage
the development of a group who were especially devoted to
the old forms. They were called Nazirites, and were ex-
pressly forbidden to cut their hair or drink wine (Num.
6.2 ff.). Like Engidu, of the Gilgamesh epic, who lived in
peace with the beasts and knew nothing of “land or people,”
they were to wear their hair “like women,” letting “it grow
like wheat.”*
Even people who did not accept this tradition as a normal
rule of life, submitted to it in moments of crises, as on
the eve of battle. Just as they refrained from sex-life during
war, because “God walketh in the midst of thy camp”
(Deut. 23.15; I Sam. 21.6; II Sam. 11.11);* so they let their
hair grow as a sign of superior holiness and purity. So
widespread was this custom that long hair became, among
the Israelites as among certain pre-Mohammedan Arabs,
the first signals of approaching war. “When men let grow
their hair in Israel,” sings Deborah, “when the people
offer themselves willingly, bless ye the Lord” (Judg. 5.2).
Of those who lived this superior life also in times of peace,
some bound themselves to it by special vows; others were
bound to it from birth by their parents. Such pre-natal
THE SIMPLE LIFE
189
VOWS were especially common among barren women who
begged God for children whom they might give to Him
(Judg. 13.7; I Sam. 1.11,28).
The plebeian purists reserved their most severe con-
demnation, however, for the use of horses. In Palestine
as in Attica,!® this efficient and expensive animal was
possessed only by the gentry of the low country; the
peasants of the highlands joined the nomads in declaring
themselves not only unable, but also unwilling, to have
them. The Book of Deuteronomy (17.16) actually forbids
the king to own many horses, and explains that in order to
acquire them it might be necessary to offer mercenary
troops to Egypt in exchange. In practice, however, the
ownership of horses was opposed even when there was no
such danger. When David captured seventeen hundred
horses from Zobah, he did not take them; he houghed all
but one hundred of them (II Sam. 8.4). It was evidence of
the apostasy of both King Solomon and King Ahab that
they built up a cavalry.!! The Psalmist (20.8) declares that
a horseman tends to put his trust in his steed rather than
God; and one of the latest of the prophets made a lasting
impression on future imaginative apocalyptists by declaring
that the Messiah would come riding on an ass (Zech. 9.9).
It was natural that the God who hated every mani-
festation of wealth should oppose the erection of costly
temples. Long after the people had settled in houses, the
Ark of the Covenant still was placed “behind the curtain,”
the traditional tent of the wilderness (II Sam. 7.2). And
indeed it is only such a sanctuary that is permitted in the
Pentateuch (Ex. 26.1 ff.). When David, rising in wealth,
proposed to Nathan, the prophet, the establishment of a built
sanctuary, the prophet replied in the name of God that this
190
THE PHARISEES
could not be done (ibid. 7.5 ff.). The altars built by the
plebeians for the worship of God were of earth; when stone
was used, it was unhewn (Ex. 20.21 f.). It is curious to
note that when King Solomon was building the Temple, in
violation of the desert tradition, he yet felt bound to respect
this rule. He had to use hewn stones, of course; but he
resorted to the legal fiction of having them prepared at the
quarry so that “there was neither hammer, nor axe nor any
tool of iron heard in the house, while it was in building’
(I Kings 6.7).
There were, however, some Hebrews who, becoming
acclimatized to the country, adopted the “manner of the
Canaanites.” They were to be found especially among the
patricians who had gained a foothold in the fertile lowland.
It was they who built the temple at Gilgal, called Ha-
Pesilim or “The Hewn Images,” doubtless from the fact
that there were stone Images of YHWH established there.
It was to this sanctuary that Ehud, the early Benjaminite
warrior (in whose territory Gilgal was included) resorted
before making his attack on Eglon, King of Moab, oppressor
of Israel (Judg. 3.19). And what is historically far more
significant, it was at this sanctuary that Saul — also a
Benjaminite — chose to announce his kingdom (I Sam. 13.7).
To understand all that is implied in this statement, we
must remember that Saul was selected as King by Samuel
who, realizing that the popular demand for a royal leader
could not be resisted, decided at least to make the selection
himself. He thought he had chosen carefully and wisely
when he picked the young warrior-peasant. What must
have been Samuel’s chagrin when he discovered that Saul’s
first royal act was to gather his forces at Gilgal and offer
sacrifices there, at the sanctuary of the patricians, where
THE SIMPLE LIFE
191
God was represented in the form so hateful to plebeian,
nomad tradition. It is this background which explains
SamueFs delay in coming to Gilgal, and also his vehement
denunciation of Saul for having offered the sacrifice (ibid.
13.4 ff.). It is in vain that subsequent editors, trying to
reconcile the traditions surrounding Gilgal with those of
plebeian Hebraism, make Samuel call the meeting at Gilgal
(ibid. 11. 14). The discrepancy between the editor’s inter-
polation and the original story is too great to be mistaken.
It was a similar sign of defection from God when
Jeroboam, the plebeian worker, whom Ahijah of Shiloh,
imitating Samuel’s role as king-maker, had placed on the
throne of Israel, transformed the ancient shrine of Beth-el,
which had consisted of only a rock on which libations of
oil were poured (Gen. 28.18), into a great temple with a
golden heifer as representative of YHWH (I Kings 12.29).
So eminent an aristocrat as Isaiah identifies luxury with
idol-worship. In denouncing the sins of Jerusalem, he
enumerates not only her social and religious delinquencies,
but gives a whole list of ornaments worn by its maidens
(3.18 ff.). Together with the increase in the number of
idols, he laments the fact that ‘Their land also is full of
silver and gold, neither is there any end of their treasures’*
(2.7). He can see no ideal future for the land until the
people return to the life of the simplest peasantry, with a
diet of milk and honey. “And it shall come to pass in that
day, that a man shall rear a young cow, and two sheep;
and it shall come to pass, for the abundance of milk that
they shall give, he shall eat curd; for curd and honey shall
every one eat that is left in the midst of the land” (7.21).
The places which grew a thousand vines would be left for
briers and thorns, and the hills which were being covered
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THE PHARISEES
with grain-fields would be reserved “for the sending forth
of oxen and for the treading of sheep” (7.25).
Even before him, Hosea had announced that the ideal
age of the world would be a return to that of the wilderness.
“Therefore, behold I will allure her, and bring her into the
wilderness, and speak tenderly unto her. And I will give
her her vineyards from thence, and the valley of Achor for
a door of hope; and she shall respond there, as in the days
of her youth, and as in the day when she came up out of
the land of Egypt” (2.16 f.).
This basic difference between the ancient plebeians and
patricians led, as we have already seen, to the schismatic
issue regarding the water-libations. But there were other
differences, which for special reasons did not become
partisan. One of them concerned the use of oil, which,
common among all classes in Galilee,^® was considered a
luxury in Judea. Indeed, Josephus records that the Essenes
regarded the use of oil as a “defilement,” and that when
one of them was anointed with it against his will, he imme-
diately wiped it off.i^ Even among the talmudic sages, it was
considered “improper for a scholar to walk about with
ointment” in his hair.^® When a woman poured some oil
on the head of Jesus, when he was in Jerusalem, her action
aroused indignation among many, who said, “Why was this
waste of ointment made?” But Jesus, hailing from Galilee,
saw nothing inappropriate in her action (Mk. 14.4).^®
The general Pharisaic objection to such use of oil made
necessary a special regulation to permit the Galilean mem-
bers of the sect to “pour out channels of wine and oil before
brides and bridegrooms.”^'^ Many members of the Pharisaic
order considered the custom Amoritic and pagan; but the
majority refused to forbid it. Indeed it is recorded that when
THE SIMPLE LIFE
193
the children of Gamaliel the Patriarch, came to Cabul, they
permitted their hosts to pour out such channels of oil and.
wine in their honor.’-®
Far more serious than this objection to the use of oil was
the protest of the plebeians against the extravagant banquets
of the patricians and provincials. The so-called Zadokite
Document, dating from the beginning of the first century
B.C.E., denounced gluttony as one of the sins of the con-
temporary Sadducees.^® But, as we have seen, the writer
of the Assumption of Moses, about a hundred years later,
found that it was rampant also among the patrician Phari-
sees, the Shammaites, of his day.®°
It is this view which R. Akiba, the most outspoken of the
plebeian leaders, expressed when he said, “Poverty is as
becoming to Israel as a red strap on the neck of a white
horse” and when he declared further that “all the prophets
complained to God of the silver and gold which He caused
Israel to bring forth from Egypt.”®* A century before him,
Hillel, the organizer of the plebeian faction of the Pharisees,
had put the same thought somewhat differently when he
said, “The more flesh, the more worms; the more property,
the more anxiety.”®* “This is the way which is suitable for
the study of the Torah,” a later teacher remarked, “a morsel
of bread with salt shalt thou eat, and water by measure
shalt thou drink, thou shalt sleep upon the ground, and live
a life of trouble the while thou toilest in the Torah. If thou
doest thus, happy shalt thou be, and it shall be well with
thee.”®*
By its very nature the struggle for the simple life had to
be renewed in each generation. Fashions change, new
discoveries are made, new delicacies are invented; and each
of them has to be weighed in the balance to determine
194
THE PHARISEES
whether it belongs to the realm of the necessary or the
superfluous. A thousand years after the disappearance of
Pharisaism as a separate sect, the struggle between patricians
and plebeians led to the enactment of new sumptuary laws
in the European ghettos, rivaling those which were estab-
lished, for similar reasons, in the larger communities of the
day.**
XL PROVIDENCE, DETERMINISM AND
FREE WILL
Among the important sectarian issues of his day, Josephus
mentions the belief in Fate, with regard to which he identifies
three views. The Sadducees, according to him^ were abso-
lute free willists, denying ‘"Fate and saying there is no such
thing.’’ Diametrically opposed to them were the Essenes
who held, he says, that all things are determined and that
man is given no choice whatever. Between the two extreme
doctrines was that of the Pharisees who maintained that
“some actions, but not all, are the work of Fate; and that
regarding some of them it is in our power to decide whether
or not they shall come to pass.”^ It is the purpose of this
chapter to show that the Sadducean attitude was natural
to the patricians of Jerusalem and was traditional among
them from an early time; that the Pharisaic view was equally
inherent in the life of the urban plebeians and was found
among them since the seventh century B.C.E.; and that
the teaching of the Essenes was nothing but the simple
piety of the ancient fellah, undisturbed by metropolitan
sophistication.
In his analysis Josephus identifies Fatalism with the
doctrine of Divine Providence, using the concepts inter-
changeably. He intended, doubtless, in this manner to
clarify the subject for the Greek reader. But, as usual,
oversimplification and forced parallelism resulted in mysti-
fication, so that subsequent generations were only misled
and confused by Josephus’ definitions. In fact, it seems
195
196
THE PHARISEES
that Josephus himself ultimately became muddled and his
successive interpretations are partly contradictory. This
was inevitable. A philosopher may be able to formulate
his ideas on so complex and difficult a subject in a brief
statement. But the underlying reactions of a whole social
stratum could hardly become sufficiently precise or explicit
for short, logical propositions. The people were aware of
certain “feelings” on the subject; they carried about certain
concepts; but it would have been too much to ask definitive
dogmas of their untrained minds. This was particularly
true of the ancient Jew, whose thinkers — ^not to speak of
the masses — avoided, whenever possible, abstruse thought
and ideas. Only when we have entered into the spirit of
the ancient classes and sects and reconstructed their natural
response to their environment, can we follow what Josephus
is trying to tell us in his abstract and prolix phrases.
Like ail primitive men, the ancient Israelite who lived
about 1000 B.C.E. was completely unaware of his ego.
Not only, as we have already seen, did he lose his identity
in his clan or tribe; he was not even aware that his thoughts
or ideas were his own. Everything came to him from God.
If David took it into his sinful head to violate ancient
tradition and count the people, the evil temptation was
divine. “The anger of the Lord was kindled against Israel,”
says the ancient historian, “and He moved David against
them, saying: ‘Go, number Israel and Judah’ ” (II Sam.
24.1). It did not shock the readers of Kings to be told that
God sent an evil and lying spirit to lure Ahab to his defeat
in Ramoth-Gilead (I Kings 22.21). Elijah was uttering no
blasphemy in the ears of his contemporaries, though he
gave immeasurable trouble to all subsequent commentators,
when he said to God: “ ‘Hear me, O Lord, hear me, that
PROVIDENCE, DETERMINISM AND FREE WILL 197
this people may know that Thou, Lord, art God, for Thou
didst turn their heart backward’ ” (I Kings 18.37).
In the Torah itself, we find recorded God’s promise to
Moses that He will harden Pharaoh’s heart to prevent his
escaping the plagues through premature yielding (e. g.
Ex. 7.3). Isaiah hears without surprise God’s command:
“Make the heart of this people fat, and make their ears
heavy, and shut their eyes; lest they, seeing with their eyes,
and hearing with their ears, and understanding with their
heart, return, and be healed” (Isa. 6.10).
Such ideas were as natural to primitive men as to children.
It did not occur to them that man himself was the author
of his thoughts and inclinations. Yet they punished people
for doing wrong. Never having conceived of intention as
separate from act, they did not reckon with it. If one of
them hurt himself against a stone, he was ready to strike it;
just as Xerxes was prepared to beat the Hellespont for
sinking his ships. Transferring, like all men, their own
emotions to God, our ancestors considered it likely that
God would punish transgressors for their action, without
making any inquiry into the intention behind the deed.^
Since the notion of human responsibility and the significance
of inwardness was yet unrecognized, children were punished
for the sins of their parents without theological or moral
qualm.* Their personal innocence did not matter; for punish-
ment was still emotional, not rational. An ox which gored
a man would be stoned to death, not slaughtered (Ex.
21.28). Its destruction was intended not to prevent recur-
rence of the injury, but as vengeance for its misdeeds.
Indeed, in England of the twelfth century, it was still
the rule that a man was guilty of homicide unless he could
swear that he had done nothing whereby the dead man
198
THE PHARISEES
was brought “further from life, or nearer to death. “If,”
says an eminent authority, “once it be granted that a man’s
death was caused by the act of another, then the other is
liable, no matter what may have been his intentions or his
motives.”® If by mischance a man fell from a tree and
killed another, the victim’s kinsman might, if he chose,
climb a tree and fall on the murderer!® Indeed, if a person
gave his sword to a smith to be sharpened, and it was used
by the latter to kill someone, it were better for the owner
not to receive the implement, for he would bring a “bane”
into his house, and become responsible for its misdeeds. In
fact, the famous jurist, Bracton, sets down the rule: “If a
man by misadventure is crushed or drowned or otherwise
slain, let hue and cry at once be raised; but in such a case
there is no need to make pursuit from field to field and vill
to viU; for the malefactor has been caught, to wit, the
bane,”’’ or instrument of death — the boat, the cart, or the
beam. The conception that Reum non facit nisi mens rea,
which Augustine had tried to introduce from the later
Jewish-Christian tradition into Western thought, was still
far from acceptance.
We can hardly conceive of such naivete and simplicity;
yet during a war we are ourselves not particularly careful
to save the innocent from suffering with the guilty. When
mobs become infuriated, they readily sink back into the
mental stage which was universal some thousands of years
ago, and many a person has been lynched who could not
judicially be punished. In fact, our punitive acts, rational-
ized as they are, frequently bear the stamp of vengeance on
them. Many of us still think it peculiar that prisoners should
be treated like ordinary men and women, and believe it
PROVIDENCE) DETERMINISM AND FREE WILL 199
helpful — all criminologists to the contrary notwithstanding —
to brutalize their spirits yet more by repaying crime with
cruelty. Though we know in our hearts that crime is a
social disease for which it is as absurd to seek vengeance
from the afflicted individual as it was to beat the sick and
the insane^ we continue to subject the wretch who trans-
gresses our laws to refinements of pain and humiliation.
Let us then be sympathetic to our less enlightened fore-
fathers who followed their instincts without the inhibitions
which thousands of years of religion, philosophy and art
have imposed upon us.
It was an epoch-making event in the history of civiliza-
tion when the Lawgiver declared that a betrothed woman
who was a victim of rape should not be executed with her
assailant. What seems to us patent common sense is argued
by the Legislator with a prolixity which shows the strength
of the opposing tradition: '‘But unto the damsel thou shalt
do nothing; there is in the damsel no sin worthy of death;
for as when a man riseth against his neighbour and slayeth
him, so is this matter. For he found her in the field; and
the betrothed damsel cried, and there was none to save
her’' (Deut. 22.26).
These notions tended to persist in peasant life. The
farmer is so completely dependent on God for everything,
that he naturally attributes to Him even his desires and
wants. By his own work he can achieve little; it is God
who has to protect him from plagues, floods, droughts and
locusts. In his unsophistication the Palestinian peasant
never stopped to theorize about the reasons for suflFering
or divine punishment. It was sufficient explanation of evil
to say that the "anger of God was kindled.” How this
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THE PHARISEES
anger had arisen, whether it had moral justification, whether
the punishment it implied was deserved, did not particularly
concern his simple mind.
But as cities developed, new ideas began to gain ground
among the people. Both the rich men who moved to the
town for the sake of society and the poor who came there
in search of work, soon became aware not only of their
individuality, but also of their mentality. The farmer’s
success depended altogether on nature and God; the city
man’s, largely on his skill and cunning. The great land-
owner who derived his income from rents now entered
political and diplomatic life; he engaged in large commerce;
he had to deal with crafty artisans and merchants. Even
more than he, did the plebeian, working in his shop or
trading in the market, learn the fundamental distinction
between promise and performance, between fact and report.
The town bred the flatterer and the hypocrite, in whom,
as by electrolysis, deed was separated from intention. The
smooth-tongued merchant discovered the dissociation in
himself, and even the wealthy patricians were not all too
simple to grasp it.
The antithesis between act and pretense was even more
readily noticed by new arrivals in the city. The natives
of the metropolis grew up in the atmosphere of deception,
and many of them took no more notice of it than of the
physical air which they breathed. But a farmer, fresh from
the redolent country, was struck — if he was at all observant
— by the sharp contrast between word and meaning. Jer-
emiah® was the first among the prophets to stress the import-
ance of inwardness and “speaking the truth in one’s heart.”
In his theology, God not only examines human action, but
He tries “the reins and the heart” (13.3: 17.10; 20.12).
PROVIDENCE^ DETERMINISM AND FREE WILL 201
We may be sure that many another farmer^ brought to
the city not to be a messenger of God but to wait at Court,
also noticed the artifice and falsehood of the market place,
and came thereby to a new understanding of the human
mind. As soon as the distinction between intention and
accident was made, the whole doctrine of sin and punish-
ment, both human and divine, had to be revolutionized.
Theology could no longer attribute to God the origin of sin
without freeing man from the burden of punishment.
The patricians in Jerusalem found little difficulty in this
problem. The same urban conditions which had raised it
also provided the answer. Masters of the land, they came
to regard themselves as "'self-made. They had become in
a measure independent of such petty matters as good harvest,
sufficient rain, and safety from locusts. No matter how the
country might suffer, their needs were provided. Inevitably
such men came to think, in spite of the warning of the
Deuteronomist, "My power and the might of my hand
hath gotten me this wealth’^ (Deut. 8.17). Jeremiah knew the
man who "maketh flesh his arm, and whose heart departeth
from the Lord” (17.5). Long before, the Legislator had
considered it an act of righteousness in Abraham that un-
like the patrician he "believed in the Lord,” and trusted
His promise (Gen. 15.6). When Isaiah promised Ahaz
safety from his enemies and offered a divine sign, the King
contemptuously replied: "I will not ask, neither will I try
the Lord” (Isa. 7.12). It was this attitude which predom-
inated among the princes generally, so that when prepara-
tions for war were being made, Isaiah could properly com-
plain: "And ye have also seen the breaches of the city of
David that they were many and ye gathered together the
waters of the lower pool ... Ye also made a ditch between
202
THE PHARISEES
the two walls for the water of the old pool. But ye have
not looked to the Maker thereof, neither had ye respect
for Him that fashioned it long ago’' (Isa. 22.9 ff.).
The plebeians of the city could not grant the claim of the
patrician that wisdom and success are from man, himself.
Liberated from the rural doctrine of absolute determination
as they were, they yet denied that human prudence deter-
mines a person’s fortune. Their own poverty demonstrated
this to them; for they could not admit that they were the
victims of their folly. They were thus caught in a paradox,
which held them for centuries. Their ill fortune, which
they could not attribute to themselves, was clear evidence
of the power of Fate; yet their awareness of their ego,
induced by city life, made them conscious of free will. This
paradox is evident in the teaching of the prophets, the
plebeians of the Second Commonwealth, and the Pharisees.
None of the pre-exilic prophets is clear regarding this
question. Isaiah apparently adheres to the ancient rural
teaching of the divine origin of human decisions; Jeremiah
wavers; and Ezekiel, the most outspoken of all individualists,
proclaims God the source of delusion as* well as of truth.®
In the Book of Deuteronomy an attempt is made to
clarify the issue. God places good and evil before man, so
that man has complete freedom of choice in the moral
field (11.26; 30.15,19). But man’s success in mundane
affairs is achieved not through his "‘power and the might
of his hand,” for it is God who gives him “power to get
wealth” (8.18).
This compromise doctrine has remained dominant in
Jewish theology practically until our own day. Yet before
it came to be explicitly recognized, Jewish thought was to
PROVIDENCE^ DETERMINISM AND FREE WILL 203
undergo a long and complicated development, which can
only be appreciated after a study of several later biblical
and Apocryphal books. We shall consider them in the
following order: Proverbs, Esther, Judith, Ben Sira, Lamen-
tations Chapter 3, Chronicles, Job, Ecclesiastes, and the
Psalms of the Persian Period.
A. The Book of Proverbs
The Book of Proverbs is really a collection of eight small
tracts on conduct. They are separated from one another
by special headings, so that the division is not a mere literary
hypothesis but an established fact. The booklets were all
concededly put into their present form during the Second
Commonwealth. But it is altogether probable that the
individual apothegms were coined, and a beginning of some
of the collections made, hundreds of years earlier.
Two traditions are discernible in each of these little book-
lets: one patrician, the other plebeian. It is characteristic
of the magnanimity and liberalism of the Hasideans and
Pharisees that they absorbed both streams of thought into
their literature; yet this ultimate merger must not be per-
mitted to conceal the fact of the original separation, and
even opposition, of the teachings. The patrician proverbs
urge the pupil to be wise, cautious, thrifty, and self-reliant.
Its teachings can be duplicated from the Babylonian Prov-
erbs, the Story of Ahikar, and the Babylonian Job, as well
as from such Egyptian works as the Wisdom of Amen-
em-ope, and the Wisdom of Ani. But what is peculiar to the
Jewish Wisdom literature is the plebeian tradition which is
204
THE PHARISEES
found side by side with that of the patricians. Among no
other people of antiquity, so far as we know, did the landless
plebeians attain the state of culture they reached in Judea;
and, hence, nowhere else do we find an ethical tradition
based on purely plebeian ideals of faith, endurance and
reliance on God.^“ In the younger booklets, the two streams
of thought are still easily separated by the methods of
literary criticism. In the older booklets they have become
fused, and we can only detect the different traditions by the
contents of the apothegms. Because of this fact, it will be
most convenient to open the discussion of Proverbs with its
youngest portion, chapters 1-9.^'
Several commentators have pointed out that the larger
part of this small treatise implies a background of affluence.^®
The author addresses himself to a young man, obviously
the child of rich parents. He is able to help his friends
through gifts or by going surety for them (3.28; 6.1). The
women who seek to entice him are of the wealthiest classes:
‘T have decked my couch with coverlets, with striped cloths
of the yarn of Egypt. I have perfumed my bed with myrrh,
aloes and cinnamon. Come, let us take our fill of love until
the morning; let us solace ourselves with loves. For my
husband is not at home, he is gone on a long journey; he
hath taken the bag of money with him; he will come home
at the full moon” (7.10-20). In accosting this youth.
Wisdom, herself, must assay her value in terms of money:
“My fruit is better than gold, yea than fine gold; and my
produce than choice silver” (8.19). The picture is patently
taken from patrician life; the child of Jerusalem’s slums was
in no danger of the temptations against which the writer
warns and would have been overwhelmed rather than
stimulated by the rewards offered.
PROVIDENCE, DETERMINISM AND FREE WILL 205
But the “wisdom” inculcated in the treatise is quite
secular and non-religious. In those parts of it which are
basic and original, there is hardly a reference to the fear of
God, and none to the love of Him. The youth is warned
against evil companions who must ultimately lead him to
destruction (1.15); he is urged to follow wisdom because
“length of days is in her right hand; in her left are riches and
honour” (3.16); he is asked to emulate the diligence of the
ant (6.6), and to avoid above all the sins of slothfulness and
laziness. Wicked women should be shunned because angry
husbands take fearful vengeance on betrayers (6.29). There
is no attempt made to place the sanctity of the home and
the ideal of chastity on any higher plane than that of material
self-interest. No virtue save diligence and thrift is incul-
cated; and the folly of going surety for a friend is, by impli-
cation at least, condemned (6.1).
Here and there this materialistic tone is interrupted by
higher ethical and religious considerations. But the passages
containing them have, on purely literary grounds, already
been shown to be interpolations by a “Hasidean” editor.
They are all foreign to the text and generally not only
oppose its spirit, but disturb its continuity. Thus at the
very beginning of the book, in chapter 2, we read:
1. “My son, if thou wilt hear my words.
And lay up my commandments with thee,
2. So that thou make thine ear attend unto wisdom.
And thy heart incline to discernment;
3. Yea, if thou call for understanding.
And lift up thy voice for discernment;
4. If thou seek her as silver.
And search for her as for hid treasures;
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THE PHARISEES
5. Then shalt thou understand the fear of the Lordy
And find the knowledge of God,
6. For the Lord giveth wisdom^
Out of His mouth someth knowledge and discernment;
7. He layeth up sound wisdom for the upright y
He is a shield to them that walk in integrity;
8. That He may guard the paths of justice^
And preserve the way of His godly ones.
9. Then shalt thou understand righteousness and justice.
And equity, yea, every good path/'
It is fairly obvious that the real apodosis to the con-
dition set forth in the first four verses, begins with verse 9.
If thou search after wisdom, thou shalt understand righteous-
ness and judgment. As the text stands before us, there are
two conclusions, the one secular, the other pietistic. But
there can be no doubt that the pietistic and not the secular
apodosis came from the interpolator. For while there is
some formal connection between verse 5 and what precedes,
the remainder is purely religious exhortation, altogether
foreign to the spirit of what went before. If ‘‘the Lord
giveth wisdom," as verse 6 assures us, why insist on study?
If “He may guard the paths of justice and preserve the
way of His godly ones," the prudent thing would be to seek
not wisdom, but saintliness. This is indeed what the glos-
sator is trying to teach, but it is quite alien to the spirit of
the book to which, after a manner of a parasite, he attaches
himself.
Similarly, though perhaps somewhat less obviously, the
verse, “The fear of the Lord is the beginning of knowledge,"
in the first chapter of the book, is an isolated spark of
PROVIDENCE^ DETERMINISM AND FREE WILL 207
religious teaching in the midst of a cold environment of
pure secularism. The author is giving the purpose of the
book:
5. '‘That the wise man may hear, and increase in learning,
And the man of understanding may attain unto wise
counsels;
6. To understand a proverb, and a figure;
The words of the wise, and their dark sayings.
7. The fear of the Lord is the beginning of knowledge;
But the foolish despise wisdom and discipline.
8. Hear, my son, the instruction of thy father,
And forsake not the teaching of thy mother.'’
At the beginning of chapter 3, personified Wisdom speaks,
calling the youth to her and promising her usual rewards:
L "My son, forget not my teaching;
But let thy heart keep my commandments;
2. For length of days, and years of life,
And peace, will they add to thee.
3. Let not kindness and truth forsake thee;
Bind them about thy neck.
Write them upon the tables of thy heart;
4. So shalt thou find grace and good favour
In the sight of God and man.”
The motif of material success in this exhortation is unmis-
takable. The basis for morals is wisdom; the sanction of
wisdom is success. It is the laws of wisdom, rather than
those of God, which the author urges: they, not the Sinai tic
commandments, give long life and peace. Even to find
grace in the eyes of God, it is necessary to follow prudence
208
THE PHARISEES
rather than piety. The Hasid is unable to brook this teach-
ing and interrupts with one of his interpolations:
5. “Trust in the Lord with all thy heart,
And lean not upon thine own understanding.
6. In all thy ways acknowledge Him,
And He will direct thy paths.
7. Be not wise in thine own eyes;
Fear the Lord, and depart from evil;
8. It shall be health to thy navel.
And marrow to thy bones.
9. Honour the Lord with thy substance.
And with the first-fruits of thine increase;
10. So shall thy barns be filled with plenty.
And thy vats shall overflow with new wine.
11. My son, despise not the chastening of the Lord,
Neither spurn thou His correction;
12. For whom the Lord loveth He correcteth.
Even as a father the son in whom he delighteth.”
The interpolator’s ideal is not prudence at all, but faith
and obedience to God. He warns the young man not to
be “wise in thine own eyes.” To be successful is not the
highest good at aU, according to him; to suffer may be a
sign of divine love and, therefore, better and superior.
Throughout Proverbs, the opposing philosophies of pat-
rician and plebeian appear in this curious juxtaposition.
The following random examples, culled from different parts,
illustrate the patrician philosophy:
1. “He becometh poor that dealeth with a slack hand;
But the hand of the diligent maketh rich” (10.4).
2. “The rich man’s wealth is his strong city;
The ruin of the poor is their poverty” (10.15).
PROVIDENCEj DETERMINISM AND FREE WILL 209
3 . “The hand of the diligent shall bear rule;
But the slothful shall be under tribute” (12.24).
4 . “The soul of the sluggard desireth and hath nothing;
But the soul of the diligent shall be abundantly
gratified” (13.4).
5. “The ransom of a man’s life are his riches;
But the poor heareth no threatening” (13.8).
6. “The poor is hated even of his own neighbour;
But the rich hath many friends” (14.20),
7 . “The crown of the wise is their riches;
But the folly of fools remaineth folly” (14.24).
8. “A man void of understanding is he that striketh
hands.
And becometh surety in the presence of his
neighbour” (17.18).
9. “The rich man’s wealth is his strong city.
And as a high wall in his own conceit” (18.11).
10. “Wealth addeth many friends;
But as for the poor, his friend separateth himself
from him” (19.4).
11. “Luxury is not seemly for a fool;
Much less for a servant to have rule over princes”
(19.10).
12. “The rich ruleth over the poor.
And the borrower is servant to the lender” (22.7).
13. “He that tiUeth his ground shall have plenty of bread;
But he that followeth after vain things shall have
poverty enough” (28.19).
It is altogether incredible that the groups or individuals
from whom are derived these mundane and materialistic
210
THE PHARISEES
teachings could also bring forth the following pietistic
maxims so contradictory to them in spirit:
1. “Treasures of wickedness profit nothing;
But righteousness delivereth from death” (10.2).
2. “The Lord will not suffer the soul of the righteous
to famish;
But He thrusteth away the desire of the wicked”
(10.3).
3. “The blessing of the Lord it maketh rich.
And toil addeth nothing thereto” (10.22).
4. “He that trusteth in his riches shall fall;
But the righteous shall flourish as foliage” (11.28).
5. “The eyes of the Lord are in every place.
Keeping watch upon the evil and the good” (15.3).
6. “The nether-world and Destruction are before the
Lord,
How much more then the hearts of the children of
men!” (15.11).
7. “The preparations of the heart are man’s.
But the answer of the tongue is from the Lord” (16.1).
8. “Better is a little with righteousness
Than great revenues with injustice” (16.8).
9. “The name of the Lord is a strong tower:
The righteous runneth into it, and is set up on
high” (18.10).
10. “There are many devices in a man’s heart;
But the counsel of the Lord, that shall stand” (19.21).
11. “The king’s heart is in the hand of the Lord as the
watercourses:
He turneth it whithersoever He will” (21.1).
PROVIDENCE, DETERMINISM AND FREE WILL 211
12. “A man’s goings are of the Lord;
How then can man look to his way?” (20.24).
13. “Every way of a man is right in his own eyes;
But the Lord weigheth the hearts” (21.2).
The booklets (10.1-22.16, and chapters 25-29) from which
these sayings are taken are the oldest parts of Proverbs.
Continuous interpolation and addition have so fused the
two traditions in these works that literary criticism is no
longer of use. But it is noteworthy that in each of these
sections the patrician proverbs predominate in the first half,
and the plebeian proverbs toward the end. Guided by an
intuitive recognition of this and also by differences in literary
form. Toy suggested the division of each section into two
separate treatises.^® While this suggestion cannot be ac-
cepted, for plebeian, pietistic proverbs occur also in the first
parts of each section, its proposal indicates the soundness
of the distinction between the two groups of teachings.
The present condition of these two booklets makes it
altogether probable, however, that their original, patrician
nuclei, were several centuries older than the final compilation
of the Book of Proverbs. Such an hypothesis would allow
ample time for the intrusion of the later plebeian supple-
ments and their interweaving into the very warp and woof
of the original material. It would also explain the curious
ascription of chapters 25-29 to the “men of Hezekiah”
(ca. 720 B.C.E.) which, as Gressmann^^ has shrewdly
observed, cannot be altogether meaningless.
In the younger parts of the book, however, the division
of the two philosophies is still as unobscured as in the first
nine chapters. The Wisdom of Agur ben Yakeh, contained
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THE PHARISEES
in the thirtieth chapter, is altogether plebeian. He opens
his work by denying any association with the usual aris-
tocratic Wisdom teachers.
“Surely I am more brutish, unlike a man.
And have not the understanding of a man;
And I have not learned wisdom,
That I should have the knowledge of the Holy One”
(30.2-3).-
Unlike the official Wisdom writer, this author recognizes
the existence of angels," thus fixing definitely his plebeian
status. He continues:
“Every word of God is tried;
He is a shield unto them that take refuge in Him . . .
Two things have I asked of Thee,
Deny me them not before I die!
Remove far from me falsehood and lies;
Give me neither poverty nor riches;
Feed me with mine allotted bread;
Lest I be full, and deny, and say: ‘Who is the Lord?’
Or lest I be poor, and steal.
And profane the name of my God” (30.5-9).
The difference between these teachings and those about
wealth being a tower of strength, need not be stressed. The
writer is a plebeian pietist and democrat, fearful equally
of sin and riches. Can we then be astonished that he
says:
“Slander not a servant unto his masta".
Lest he curse thee, and thou be found guilty” (30.10).
PROVIDENCE, DETERMINISM AND FREE WILL 213
Thinking of the oppressor, he remarks:
“There is a generation, O how lofty are their eyes!
And their eye-lids are lifted up.
There is a generation whose teeth are as swords, and
their great teeth as knives.
To devour the poor from off the earth, and the needy
from among men” (30.13-14).
The democratic teachings of Agur are followed by maxims
diametrically opposed to them:
“For three things the earth doth quake.
And four which it cannot endure:
For a servant when he reigneth;
And a churl when he is filled with food;
For an odious woman when she is married;
And a handmaid that is heir to her mistress” (30.21 ff.).
We expect from what we have already seen that the author
of this supplement should have high regard for diligence
and energy. And so indeed he has:
“There are four which are little upon the earth.
But they are exceeding wise:
The ants are a people not strong.
Yet they provide their food in the summer . . .
The locusts have no king.
Yet they go forth all of them by bands” (30.24 £F.).
It is now generally held that the booklet included in
Proverbs 22.17-24.22 is based on Egyptian source material.*®
Its predominantly patrician tone cannot therefore be used
as direct evidence for social conditions in Palestine. Never-
theless the Palestinian teachers clearly sought in the foreign
works only doctrines which were acceptable to them. We
214
THE PHARISEES
may therefore take it that it was a patrician who brought
into Scripture the apothegm;
“Seest thou a man diligent in his business? he shall stand
before kings;
He shall not stand before mean men” (22.29).
The child whom the teacher addresses may have the
opportunity of dining with the governor and must be taught
the imitation court etiquette there in use:
“When thou sittest to eat with a ruler.
Consider well him that is before thee;
And put a knife to thy throat.
If thou be a man given to appetite” (23.1-2).
True to the principles of his caste, this ethicist cannot
inculcate virtue without supplying a practical reason for it.
Self-denial is meaningless to him. A good act must have its
reward — or it will be imprudent. Unashamedly he says;
“Remove not the ancient landmark;
And enter not into the fields of the fatherless;
For their Redeemer is strong;
He will plead their cause with thee” (23.10-11).
“Rejoice not when thine enemy falleth.
And let not thy heart be glad when he stumbleth;
Lest the Lord see it, and it displease Him,
And He turn away His wrath from him” (24.17 ff.).
This is altogether in the spirit of that other patrician
writer, who teaches:
“If thine enemy be hungry, give him bread to eat,
And if he be thirsty, give him water to drink;
For thou wilt heap coals of fire upon his head.
And the Lord will reward thee” (25.21 ff".).
PROVIDENCE, DETERMINISM AND FREE WILL 215
The mundane practicality of the maxims is no more
amazing than their denial of the spiritual inwardness which
was so fundamental to the plebeian teaching of the day.
Could these proverbs have come from the circles which
believed that:
“The spirit of man is the lamp of the Lord,
Searching aU the inward parts” (20.27) ?
Yet even in this small patrician treatise, the plebeian
glossator has left his marks. In the introduction to it which
reads:
“Incline thine ear, and hear the words of the wise.
And apply thy heart unto my knowledge.
For it is a pleasant thing if thou keep them within thee;
Let them be established altogether upon thy lips
(22.17-18),”
the writer significantly adds,
“That thy trust may be in the Lord.”
Recognizing the kinship between the patrician teaching
of many proverbs and the Sadducism against which they
were still struggling, some sages wished to exclude the book
from the canon. They said, “Its words contradict one
another.”^^ Later teachers cited as an example of this
inconsistency the juxtaposition of the two verses, “Answer
the fool according to his folly,” and “Answer not the fool
according to his folly. But we may be certain that so
slight and obvious a contradiction would hardly have called
forth a movement to discredit the book. The inner conflict
in the teachings of Proverbs is more profound and complete.
It reaches down to the whole of its theology and ethics.
And because the sages noticed that much of it contradicted
216
THE PHARISEES
the plebeian teachings of faith and trust to which they as
Pharisees were committed^ they felt that it had no place in
Scripture*
B- Esther and Judith
But Proverbs is not the only biblical book in which the
ethics of the patricians is reflected and which some scholars^
for that reason, sought to exclude from the canon. There
was similar opposition to the Book of Esther,^® for it, too,
emanates from patrician circles and gives expression to
contemporary upper class philosophy. The author is at
home in the palaces and at the banquets of the rich, he
knows their manners, their whims, and their habits. He
gives a vivid and detailed portrayal of Court life such as
would be impossible for one who had never seen even its
dim reflection in the satrap’s palace in Jerusalem. But above
all, the avowed purpose of the book indicates the patrician
origin of its author. For apparently he is trying to estab-
lish, or to make more popular, the observance of Purim in
the capital. He expressly tells us that ‘‘the Jews of the
villages, that dwell in the unwalled towns, make the four-
teenth day of the month Adar a day of gladness and feast-
ing and a good day, and of sending portions one to another”
(9.19). There is nothing in these words to indicate that in
his day Jerusalem already knew Purim as a holiday; on
the contrary, the author is arguing for the establishment of
the custom. He is a ritualist, to whom fasting, sackcloth,
and ashes are essential when trouble looms. But the idea
of prayer to God does not occur to his hero or heroine. He
describes what appears to a religious-minded reader a most
miraculous intervention of God in human affairs in terms
of purely human motives, cunning action and good fortune.
PROVIDENCE, DETERMINISM AND FREE WILL 217
Neither the name of God nor His angels appear once in
the whole narrative. The author approves wholeheartedly
of Mordecai’s priggishness in refusing to obey the royal
decree and bend the knee to Haman. The later sages, un-
able to enter into the mind of such a person, supposed that
Haman carried an idol with him; so that Mordecai was
prevented by religious scruple from paying him homage.®'
But the author of the book is altogether unaware of this.
On the contrary, Mordecai is himself named after a Baby-
lonian god, as Esther is after Astarte. Unlike Daniel, she
makes no effort, so far as the story goes, to limit her diet
to ritually permitted foods. The author relates without
any sense of shock or pain the “elevation” of the Jewish
girl to the harem of Ahasuerus.®® For him, as for the Saddu-
cees of a later day, national bias was not proof against
social aspiration; and the honor of a king’s bed outweighed
the disgrace of heathen contamination.
The contrast between the patrician and the plebeian
psychologies is made very clear when we compare the Book
of Esther with the almost contemporary novel of Judith.
In that story, too, salvation comes to Israel through a
woman’s charms; yet how differently the heroines pursue
their tasks and how differently the tales are told. The book
of Judith is as clearly a product of a humble scribe, as Esther
is of wealthy nobility. The scene is laid in the Judean hill-
country, the land of the poorer peasantry; Judith is not,
like Mordecai and Esther, a member of the patrician tribe
of Benjamin, but of the weakened remnant of Simeon. She
is described as wealthy to make her piety and self-mortifica-
tion the more remarkable; but the author takes care to say
that her affluence came to her from her husband, and not
from her parents. Like all other plebeian writers, the
218
THE PHARISEES
author is certain that God is especially interested in the
poor; He is the ''God of the afflicted, the helper of the
oppressed, an upholder of the weak, a protector of the for-
lorn, a savior of them that are without hope'’ (9.1 !)•
Unlike Esther, again, Judith does not partake of the for-
bidden food of the general into whose camp she goes. She
takes along her own meat and, like Daniel, avoids both
heathen wine and bread. She escapes the contamination of
heathen dalliance, and each morning cleanses herself from
the unavoidable defilement of pagan propinquity. Like
Esther, she fasts; but unlike the Queen, she prays to God
for help, and recognizes that while she may be an instrument,
safety comes only from Him. "Smite by the deceit of my
lips the servant with the prince, and the prince with the
servant; break down their stateliness by the hand of a
woman. For Thy power standeth not in multitude, nor
Thy might in strong men’^ (ibid.). Speaking to the leaders
of her people she reminds them that the Lord "hath power
to defend us in such time as He will or to destroy us before
the face of our enemies” (8.15). And finally she says to
them, with full plebeian resignation to the Divine Will: "The
Lord doth scourge them that come near unto Him to admon-
ish them” (8.27).
And when the deed is accomplished and Judith returns
to her people with the head of the hated Holophernes, they
give thanks not to her, the agent, but to God, the principal.
'‘And all the people were amazed and bowed down and
worshipped God, and said with one accord. Blessed art
Thou, O our God, which hast this day brought to nought
the enemies of Thy people” (13.16). Yet Judith’s part in
the victory over Holophernes was far greater and more
courageous than that of Esther in the discomfiture of
PROVIDENCE, DETERMINISM AND FREE WILL 219
Haman. Esther’s was assisted by a series of fortunate
coincidences: Mordecai had overheard the plot against the
king; the king happened to be sleepless on the night when
Haman came to petition for Mordecai’s head; she found
grace in the royal eye as she stood unbidden in the court
before his throne. Judith is guided throughout her work
by common sense; she relies on no miracles and is aided by
none. Yet both she and her people attribute her success to
God, whereas the writer of Esther cannot find sufficient
words of praise for her and Mordecai, though of themselves
they could hardly have achieved anything. The writer of
Judith must have been aware of this sharp contrast, and
perhaps intended it. He may have wished to show, among
other things, how the Hasideans interpreted the normal
working of the world, and how God saves us through what
we regard as our own judgment and activity.
Seen against the foil of the rival story, the Book of
Esther confirms all the more effectively the other evidence
of the lack of true religious spirit and trust in God among the
pre-Maccabean nobility. With their own Wisdom writers
and with the later Sadducees, these patrician landowners
believed not in piety and devotion, but in prudence and
achievement. Because such ideals were widely fostered,
the plebeians were compelled to insist the more strongly on
their own doctrines of faith and trust.
C. Ben Sira
Ben Sira was probably a contemporary of the writer of
Esther, and no less than he, a patrician. We have already
seen how he agrees with the patricians in denying resur-
rection and the existence of angels. It is significant that
220
THE PHARISEES
in the truly aristocratic manner of the day he despises trade
and craftsmanship. Like Hosea, he believed that all mer-
chants are swindlers.
“Hardly shall the merchant keep himself from wrong-
doing,
And a huckster will not be acquitted of sin.
Many have sinned for the sake of gain ;
And he that seeketh to multiply [gain] turneth away
his eye.
A nail sticketh fast between the joinings of stones,
And sin will thrust itself between buyer and seller”
( 26 . 29 - 27 . 2 ).
Of the husbandman and the laborer, he says:
“How can he become wise, that holdeth the goad.
And glorieth in brandishing the lance
Who leadeth cattle and turneth about oxen.
And whose discourse is with bullocks . . .
Likewise the maker of carving and cunning device.
Who by night as by day hath no rest;
Who engraveth signet engravings.
And whose art it is to make variety of design . . .
So also the smith that sitteth by the furnace,
And regardeth the weighty vessels . . .
Likewise the potter who sitteth at his wheel.
And driveth the vessel with the soles of his feet . . .
All these are deft with their hands.
And each is wise in his handiwork.
Without them a city cannot be inhabited,
And wherever they dwell they hunger not.
PROVIDENCE, DETERMINISM AND FREE WILL 221
But they shall not be inquired of for public counsel,
And in the assembly they shall enjoy no precedence”
(38.25-33).
How distant are these teachings from that of the Legislator
who regarded the builders of the tabernacle and the weavers
of its curtains as “filled with the spirit of God!”^® And how
harshly these patrician dicta must have fallen on the ears
of the contemporary Hillels and Joshua ben Hananyas who,
laboring all day in their smithery and workshop, devoted
their evenings and Sabbaths to study.
Ben Sira’s philosophy is, of course, no longer purely
patrician. Living when the Book of Proverbs had already
received its present form, he regarded himself as a collector
of ancient wisdom and tried to reconcile the incongruities
and contradictions he found therein. He says of himself;
“I, indeed, came last of all.
As one that gleaneth after the grape-gatherers;
I advanced by the blessing of God,
And filled my winepress as a grape-gatherer” (33.16).
Yet fundamentally his sympathies are those of his class.
No less than the patricians of a former age does he insist on
the virtues of dilligence and prudence:
“Be not boastful with thy tongue.
Nor slack and negligent in thy work” (4.29).
“The rich man laboreth to gather riches.
And when he resteth, it is to partake of delights.
The poor man toileth for the needs of his house.
And if he rest he becometh needy” (31.3-4).
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“A rich man, when he is shaken, is supported by a friend,
But the poor man, when he is shaken, is thrust away
by a friend . . .
When the rich man speaketh, all keep silence
And they extol his intelligence to the clouds.
When the poor man speaketh: Who is this?’ say they;
And if he stumble they will assist his overthrow” (13.21).
Somewhat after the manner of a later Talmudist explain-
ing contradictions in Scripture, he tries to harmonize the
opposing maxims of Proverbs, all of which for him are true
and inspired. Since the Proverbs both forbid and command
going surety for a neighbor, Ben Sira solves the problem by
saying;
“Lend not to a man that is mightier than thou.
And if thou lend, thou art as one that loseth.
Be not surety for one that is more excellent than thou.
And if thou become surety thou art as one that payeth”
( 8 . 12 ).
Disagreeing with the patrician proverb, he definitely
respects wisdom beyond wealth, and makes its attainment
life’s principal purpose:
“There is a poor man that is honored on account of his
wisdom
And there is he that is honored on account of his
wealth.
He that is honored in his poverty — how much more
in his wealth!
And he that is despicable in his wealth — how much
more in his poverty!
PROVIDENCE, DETERMINISM AND FREE WILL 223
The wisdom of the poor man lifteth up his head.
And causeth him to sit among princes” (10.30 — 11.1).
He recognizes the dangers of over-diligence:
“My son, why multiply thus business.
Seeing that he who is in haste to increase shall not be
unpunished.”
Yet, he continues:
“My son, if thou dost not run, thou shalt not attain,
And if thou seekest not, thou shalt not find” (11.11).
It is characteristic of Ben Sira’s Pharisaic grandson who
translated the book into Greek, that he should render the
last two lines (which we fortunately possess in the original
form both in the Hebrew text and in the Syriac trans-
lation) as follows:
“My son, if thou runnest, thou shalt not attain.
And if thou seekest, thou shalt not escape.”
With the same freedom he had changed Ben Sira’s denial
of a future world into a Pharisaic affirmation of it. Ben
Sira, as now recovered in the original Hebrew, says:
“Humble thy pride greatly,
For the expectation of man is worms” (7.17).
His grandson, who had become a Pharisee, translates:
“Humble thy soul greatly,
For the punishment of the ungodly is fire and worms.'*
The most philosophical of all the patrician teachers, Ben
Sira necessarily draws each proposition to its logical conclu-
sion, and states with propagandist clarity what is merely
implied by his fellows. He insists on freedom of the will.
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THE PHARISEES
which he thinks is compromised by the plebeian teaching.
The belief that evil as well as good originated with God
seems to him sheer blasphemy.
“Say not: ‘From God is my transgression,’
For that which He hateth made He not;
Say not: ‘He made me to stumble,’
For there is no need of evil men.
Evil and abomination doth the Lord hate,
And He doth not let it come nigh to them that fear Him,
God created man from the beginning
And placed him in the hand of his inclination;
If thou desirest, thou canst keep the commandment.
And it is wisdom to do His good pleasure . . .
Life and death are before man,
That which he desireth shall be given him . . .
He commandeth no man to sin.
Nor giveth strength to men of lies” (15.11 ff.).
Here Ben Sira touches the weak point of the plebeian
doctrine, its compromise with regard to human freedom.
By making man’s decisions altogether dependent on God, it
reduced human choice to nothingness; that it yet insisted
that man was free was simply a paradox, which Ben Sira
cannot accept.
It is not a contradiction in Ben Sira’s teaching that he
attributes the origin of sin in the world to Eve’s eating of
the forbidden fruit. That exercise of free will was the first
fall of man. With that transgression, not only sin, but death
entered into the world.
“From a woman did sin originate.
And because of her we all must die” (25.24).
PROVIDENCE, DETERMINISM AND FREE WILL 225
In Ben Sira’s patrician circles, as we have already seen,
the principle of individual responsibility was not yet abso-
lutely recognized. It seemed altogether probable to him
that children would be punished for their parents and that
the human race had incurred death through Eve’s dereliction
But the verse is not, as has been supposed by some com-
mentators, a denial of human freedom. Man is still able
to choose good and evil; but no matter how good he may
be, he is tainted with the sin of his first parent.
XIL THE PLEBEIAN PARADOX
A. The Third Chapter of Lamentations
While the patricians were thus constructing a materialist
philosophy, their views were challenged at every step by
the contemporary plebeians, who were fast moving toward
organization as Hasideans.
The doctrine which Ben Sira so completely rejects was
given its most forceful and vigorous exposition by a con-
temporary psalmist, the writer of what has become the
third chapter of Lamentations. This beautiful, didactic
poem came to be attributed to Jeremiah, but its author was
clearly a plebeian of the third century B.C.E. He was a
man who had suffered much, he had seen “affliction by the
rod of His wrath,” he had been caused to walk “in darkness
and not in light.”
“He hath made me to dwell in dark places,
As those that have been long dead . . .
He hath caused the arrows of His quiver
To enter into my reins.
I am become a derision to all my people.
And their song aU the day” (3.6 ff.).
Having introduced himself to us in these words, the
author explains how he found comfort and consolation in
his unswerving faith:
“This I recall to my mind.
Therefore have I hope.
Surely the Lord’s mercies are not consumed,
226
THE PLEBEIAN PARADOX
227
Surely His compassions fail not.
They are new every morning;
Great is Thy faithfulness.
‘The Lord is my portion,’ saith my soul;
‘Therefore will I hope in Him’ . . .
For the Lord will not cast off forever.
For though He cause grief, yet will He have compassion
According to the multitude of His mercies.
For He doth not afflict willingly.
Nor grieve the children of men.
To crush under foot
All the prisoners of the earth.
To turn aside the right of a man
Before the face of the Most High,
To subvert a man in his cause.
The Lord approveth not.
Who is he that saith, and it cometh to pass.
When the Lord commandeth it not?
Out of the mouth of the Most High proceedeth not
Evil and good?” (Lam. 3.21-24, 31-38).
This confession of plebeian faith is altogether worthy of
the Hasidean glossator to Proverbs; the efficacy of human
endeavor is completely denied — all is in the hands of God.
The evil of the oppressor comes not from him, but from
God. As the Hasidean Proverb has it:
“The Lord hath made everything for His own purpose.
Yea, even the wicked for the day of evil” (Prov. 16.4).
There is no freedom of the will in Ben Sira’s sense; and
it is absurd to seek safety by begging of princes. Salvation
is in God, and in Him alone.
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B. Chronicles
It was in this spirit that the Chronicler, living about the
same time, proceeded to rewrite the whole of Jewish history.
A Levite, and hence an ecclesiastical plebeian, he fills his
book with the philosophy of trust in God.^ For him the
gravest sin is lack of faith. He is no longer concerned, like
the compiler of the Book of Kings, with the evil of idol-
worship. In his day that had practically disappeared from
Israel. So the “wicked” kings are for him not men who
served Baal, but who relied on themselves. Arrogance, not
idolatry, brought on — in his opinion — the destruction of
the Jewish state. The good king Asa, about to meet a vastly
outnumbering host of Ethiopians, prays to God: “Lord,
there is none beside Thee to help, between the mighty and
him that hath no strength; help us, O Lord our God; for
we rely on Thee, and in Thy name are we come against this
multitude” (II Chron. 14.10). When some time later, the
same King Asa was attacked by the King of Israel, he
turned not to the God who had delivered him from the
Ethiopians in answer to his prayer, but entered into dip-
lomatic arrangements with the Arameans. Whereupon, a
prophet says to him: “Because thou hast relied on the King
of Aram, and hast not relied on the Lord thy God, therefore
is the host of the king of Aram escaped out of thy hand.
Were not the Ethiopians and the Lubim a huge host, with
chariots and horsemen exceeding many? yet, because thou
didst rely on the Lord, He delivered them into thy hand.
For the eyes of the Lord run to and fro throughout the
whole earth, to show Himself strong in the behalf of those
whose heart is whole toward Him. Herein hast thou done
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229
foolishly; for from henceforth thou shalt have wars” (ibid.
16.7-9).
Asa’s son^ King Jehoshaphat, had similar experiences.
Attacked by a huge army of Moabites and Ammonites, he
prayed; ''Our God, wilt Thou not execute judgment on
them? for we have no might against this great multitude
that Cometh against us; neither know we what to do; but
our eyes are upon Thee” (ibid. 20.12). Jehoshaphat was,
of course, victorious in this battle, but toward the end of
his reign he entered into a joint shipping enterprise with
King Ahaziah of Israel, and in punishment for this dere-
liction, the vessels "were broken” and did not reach their
destination (ibid. 37).
David is made to pray in these words: "Thine, O Lord,
is the greatness, and the power, and the glory, and the
victory, and the majesty . . . But who am I, and what is
my people, that we should be able to offer so willingly after
this sort? for all things come of Thee, and of Thine own
have we given Thee . . . O Lord, the God of Abraham, of
Isaac and of Israel, our fathers, keep this for ever, even the
imagination (jezer) of the thoughts of the heart of Thy
people, and direct their heart unto Thee; and give unto
Solomon my son a whole heart, to keep Thy command-
ments, Thy testimonies, and Thy statutes, and to do all
these things, and to build the palace, for which I have made
provision” (I Chron. 29.11-19).
The Chronicler makes one concession to contemporary
objection to attributing evil to God; he blames it on Satan.
Whereas the earlier writer of Samuel had said that "the
anger of the Lord was kindled against Israel, and He moved
David against them, saying: 'Go, number Israel and
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Judah’ ” (II Sam. 24.1), the Chronicler records rather: “And
Satan stood up against Israel, and moved David to number
Israel” (I Chron. 21.1). The Chronicler was not alone in
the teaching; the writer of Enoch, living shortly afterward,
declares: “Man was created exactly like the angels to the
intent that he should continue righteous and pure,” but one
of the angels or satans “instructed mankind in writing with
ink and paper, and thereby many have sinned from eternity
to eternity and until this day” (69.9-11).
C. Job
To retain the point of view of the Chronicler, the plebeian
had to possess deep faith and complete freedom from any
sense of class inferiority. If he judged life by his external
sense-impressions rather than by his spiritual intuition,
he, of course, soon discovered the righteous forsaken and
their children in want of bread. Indeed, there must have
been hundreds who saw bitter want in their own homes,
but who, lacking the spiritual power of mighty saints, were
not sufficiendy humble to admit that their pain was a result
of impiety or an expression of divine love. There thus arose
a group among the plebeians who, denying free will like
the others, also denied Providence. They admitted that
man cannot improve his condition through prudence, but
they considered piety equally futile. They were the Pal-
estinian forerunners of our modern Haeckels, the Jewish
equivalents of the Athenian cynics. They accepted the
world like the other plebeians, but sullenly, and angrily,
or, at best, derisively, rather than serenely and in good
humor.
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231
The Book of Job has preserved for us a running debate
between these cynics and the believers. Projected into the
land of Uz, among the patriarchal nomad chieftains of the
desert, the work yet bears the ineradicable marks of its
origin in Jerusalem of the fourth century B.C.E. Behind
the shifting curtains of Arab sheiks, we can discern the
cunning faces and expressive gestures of Jerusalem traders,
arguing in tones and cadences far more suitable to metro-
politan sophistication than to pastoral simplicity. Though
the language of both Job and his companions is skillfully
colored with Arabisms, and though he is declared to be the
owner of large herds of sheep, cattle, she-asses, and camels,
but of no land, yet he has a good deal to say about silver
and gold, about hired men and purchasers, about judges
who sit in the gate, and the oppressors of the widow and
the orphan.
Job and his friends agree in their sympathy for the ple-
beians and their opposition to the powerful. Among the
virtues of the grave. Job discovers human equality;
“The small and the great are there alike;
And the servant is free from his master” (3.19).
A strange sentiment indeed in the mouth of a Bedouin chief,
no matter how righteous; but altogether natural for a plebe-
ian living in the Jerusalem of the Second Commonwealth.
Among the virtues for which this pseudo-nomad claims
credit is his kindness toward his slaves and his recognition
of their equality with him.
“If I did despise the cause of my man-servant.
Or of my maid-servant when they contended with me —
What then shall I do when God riseth up?
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And when He remembereth, what shall I answer Him?
Did not He that made me in the womb make him ?
And did not One fashion us in the womb?” (31.13 ff.).
But if these words did not emanate from a contemporary
of Moses or the patriarchs, neither did they come from any
man of wealth, unless like some of the prophets he broke
with his class and sided with the oppressed. The patrician
of Jerusalem was no more ready than the slave-holder of
modern times to be told that he and his chattel were both
equal before God.
The friends of Job are equally emphatic. Eliphaz, the
oldest of them, praises God because:
“He saveth from the sword of their mouth.
Even the needy from the hand of the mighty.
So the poor hath hope.
And iniquity stoppeth her mouth” (5.15 IF.).
A little later Zophar, denouncing the wicked and prophesying
their destruction, says:
“That which he laboured for shall he give back, and shall
not swallow it down;
According to the substance that he hath gotten, he
shall not rejoice.
For he hath oppressed and forsaken the poor;
He hath violently taken away a house, and he shall not
build it up” (20.18 ff.).
The continued and iterated protest against injustice, which
becomes one of the main motifs of the book, marks it as a
product of the plebeian mind. Neither Job nor his opponents
in the debate have anything in common with the Wisdom
teachers and their ideal of prudence and success, or Ben
THE PLEBEIAN PARADOX
233
Sira and his insistence on human freedom of choice. Widely
as these pietists disagree among themselves, thrift, diligence,
and cleverness never occur to them as ethical ideals. Their
debate centers about Plan versus Accident; it is not, as in
Proverbs, Prudence versus Piety. Job’s friends are at one
with the Chronicler, the writer of the third chapter of
Lamentations, and the Hasidean glossator to the Proverbs,
in holding that God will reward the righteous and protect
them. Goodness alone is worthwhile. Opposing them. Job
paints a world without any righteous ruler, left to the control
of chance or worse, the wicked swallowing up the righteous,
and never being called to account for it.
Job is clearly speaking not merely for the author, but for
a whole philosophic group among the plebeians. When
Eliphaz advises them to pray to God, they blasphemously
reply: “If the scourge slay suddenly. He will mock at the
calamity of the guiltless. The earth is given into the hand
of the wicked; he covereth the faces of the judges thereof”
(9.23). To Bildad’s assurance that “God will not cast away
an innocent man, neither will He uphold the evil-doers”
(8.20), Job responds, “I shall be condemned; why then do
I labour in vain? If I wash myself with water, and make
my hands never so clean; yet shalt Thou plunge me in the
ditch, and mine own clothes shall abhor me” (9.29 ff.).
Zophar, the youngest of the friends, tries to persuade Job
that “if thou set thy heart aright, and stretch out thy
hands toward Him — if iniquity be in thy hand, put it far
away, and let not unrighteousness dwell in thy tents —
surely then shalt thou lift up thy face without spot; yea,
thou shalt be stedfast, and shalt not fear” (11.13 IF.). But
Job points out that “the tents of robbers prosper, and they
that provoke God are secure” (12.6). And so the argument
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continues through some thirty chapters. The friends con-
tinually claim that righteousness has its rewards, and Job
points to the adversity of the good and the happiness of
the sinful.
Both groups were obviously deeply influenced by Persian
environment and theology. Job's picture of God is simply
an infinite Ahriman. He accepts the Zoroastrian teaching
of an evil force, but sees no evidence of any Ahura Mazda
to counteract, much less to control, it.
The book presumably ended, in its original form, with the
victory of Job, being a pamphlet issued in defense of the
sceptic teaching. This is evident from the sentence, “The
words of Job are ended," with which the discussion between
him and his friends closes. Job had the last word, and his
disputants had to withdraw from the field. But later pietists
could not take this view of the argument and added two
appendices to refute Job. The one is ascribed to Elihu, a
person not mentioned previously in the book but who sat
listening to the argument and now injected his own ideas
into it. His refutation of Job is merely a less able and
eloquent repetition of the arguments of the three friends,
who spoke first. On a far higher plane, both in literary form
and in intellectual content, stands the final refutation
ascribed to God Himself, speaking to Job “out of the storm."
The argument of these chapters is also slightly adumbrated
in the discussion with the friends, but not pressed. It is that
God is indeed just, but in a manner which is beyond man’s
understanding. The righteous may indeed suffer and the
wicked prosper; but this does not impugn the truth of God
or His justice, for both are beyond human comprehension.
The faith of the sophisticated pietist is that God will give
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235
man not necessarily what he wants, hut what is in truth
good for him.
Dissatisfied with this, a final redactor transformed the
whole spirit of the book from a philosophic discussion into
a pious novel. He altered the prologue so as to attribute
Job’s troubles to the machinations of Satan, and added an
epilogue to supply the “happy ending,” in which Job’s
fortunes are once more reversed, and he receives in double
measure all the goods he has lost. With these changes
the book became a truly religious work, teaching faith in
God, and fit for admission to the biblical canon.
D. Koheleth (Ecclesiastes)
But the philosophic group of cynical plebeians did not
disappear with the transformation of their masterpiece.
About the year 200 B.C.E., another of their number at-
tempted an equally pointed and eloquent and perhaps more
constructive, though far briefer, criticism of both the dom-
inant Wisdom and pietistic systems of ethics and theology.
Like the rest of the controversial literature, his work,
Koheleth, suffered much at the hands of glossators and in-
terpolators, yet the original can be recovered by the usual
methods of literary criticism and stands out as a work dis-
tinguished in thought and style, and giving forcible and vivid
presentation to the ideals of the sceptic plebeian school.
The book, attributed to King Solomon, has frequently
been described as the work of a rich man. The basis for
this is the writer’s own statement that he possessed fields and
vineyards, men-servants and maid-servants, flocks of sheep
and cattle, and silver and gold, “more also than all that were
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before me over Jerusalem” (1.16). It is indeed strange,
however, that critics who so readily deny the ascription of
the book to Solomon should take this masquerade seriously.
Obviously a writer disguising himself as Israel’s wealthiest
king would speak of his vast possessions; but poverty no
less than wealth can hide in the raiment of royalty. The
writer’s weariness and his contempt for affluence are in fact
characteristic not of the aging rich, but rather of the philos-
opher’s vision of them.
There is ample positive evidence of its plebeian origin
in the book. Like Job, it protests vigorously against social
injustice. 'T returned,” says the author, “and considered
all the oppressions that are done under the sun; and behold
the tears of such as were oppressed, and they had no com-
forter; and on the side of their oppressors there was power,
and they had no comforter” (4.1). “Moreover I saw under
the sun, in the place of justice, that wickedness was there;
and in the place of righteousness, that wickedness was there”
(3.16).
The teachings of the book are altogether contrary to those
natural to patricians and advanced by them in the works
we have considered. The search after wisdom is folly, “for
in much wisdom is much vexation; and he that increaseth
knowledge increaseth sorrow” (1.18). But so also is the
attempt to be virtuous, for “there is a righteous man that
perisheth in his righteousness, and there is a wicked man
that prolongeth his life in his evil-doing” (7.15). Every-
thing happens through chance, the wise and the foolish,
the wicked and the righteous are equally exposed to it, “as
the fishes that are taken in an evil net” (9.12). “All things
come alike to all; there is one event to the righteous and
to the wicked; to the good and to the clean and to the un-
THE PLEBEIAN PARADOX
237
clean; to him that sacrificeth and to him that sacrificeth
not; as is the good, so the sinner, and he that sweareth, as
he that feareth an oath. There is an evil in all that is done
under the sun, and there is one event unto all; yea also the
heart of the sons of men is full of evil, and madness is in
their heart while they live, and after that they go to the
dead” (9.2 ff.). Diligence, which the patrician teachers so
much praised, is the worst of follies. “What profit hath he
that worketh in that he laboureth?” (3.9) “The race is not
to the swift, nor the battle to the strong, neither yet bread
to the wise, nor yet riches to the man of understanding, nor
yet favour to men of skill; but time and chance happeneth
to them all” (9.11). “And I hated all my labour wherein
I laboured under the sun, seeing that I must leave it unto
the man that shall be after me. And who knoweth whether
he will be a wise man or a fool? yet he will have rule over
all my labour wherein I have laboured, and wherein I have
shown myself wise under the sun” (2.18).
The bitter polemic spares neither the pious nor the wise.
There is nothing good under the sun save eating and drink-
ing and enjoying the passing scene. “Man hath no pre-
eminence above a beast; for all is vanity . . . Who knoweth
the spirit of man whether it goeth upward, and the spirit
of the beast whether it goeth downward to the earth?”
(3.19 IF.). Achievement, virtue, thrift, goodness — none of
them are effective and none justify sacrifice.
The spirit permeating this book is thus identical with that
of Job himself, and emanates doubtless from the same
sceptical, cynical, plebeian circle. Both of the groups
attacked in the work, the patricians and the pietists, added
anti-toxic glosses to it. These glosses are readily separable,
so different are they in tone and manner from the rest of
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the book. The glosses generally occur where the original
writer is most emphatic in his scepticism and cynicism.
Thus, Koheleth passionately confesses that after striving
for a whole lifetime, he found that “all was vanity and a
striving after wind, and there was no profit under the sun,”
and the glossator at once replies, in the manner of a critical
annotator, “Then I saw that wisdom excelleth folly, as far
as light excelleth darkness. The wise man, his eyes are in
his head; but the fool walketh in darkness” (2.11 ff.). The
very form of the verse is that of the usual Wisdom apothegm.
Somewhat later in the book, Koheleth says: “Again, I
considered all labour and all excelling in work, that is man’s
rivalry with his neighbour. This also is vanity and striving
after wind.” The glossator thereupon remarks:
“The fool foldeth his hands together.
And eateth his own flesh” (4.5).
As emphatically as any Wisdom writer, this glossator an-
nounces his firm faith in riches and possessions:
“Wisdom is good with an inheritance.
Yea, a profit to them that see the sun” (7.11).
“By slothfulness the rafters sink in;
And through idleness of the hands the house leaketh”
(10.18).
He believes unequivocally in diligence and hard work, not
only for the masses but also for princes:
“Woe to thee, O land, when thy king is a boy,
And thy princes feast in the morning!
Happy art thou, O land, when thy king is a free man,
And thy princes eat in due season” (10.16).
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239
No wonder that he loses all patience with his author, who
perversely says, in disparagement of labor:
“Whoso quarrieth stones shall be hurt therewith;
And he that cleaveth wood is endangered thereby”
(10.9 ff.).
This taunt at his philosophy incenses the glossator; for-
getting his usual calm, he retorts in most unphilosophic
deprecation of the mentality of the principal writer;
“If the iron be blunt.
And one do not whet the edge.
Then must he put to more strength.
But wisdom is profitable to direct” (10.10).
But neither would the pietist of the school and class
which had produced the third chapter of Lamentations, the
Chronicles, the Hasidean Proverbs, and the additions to
Job, remain silent in the face of the attack on his teaching.
With characteristic audacity, he gives each argument of
Koheleth a Hasidean turn, which all but conceals the orig-
inal heresy. So cleverly are the new ideas woven into the
old that sometimes it is hard to extricate them. Koheleth
denies the value of human progress and achievement, saying:
“That which is hath been long ago, and that which is to
be hath already been.” The pietist apparently accepts the
statement, adding only the qualification, “And God seeketh
that which is pursued” (3.15).
When Koheleth cynically remarks that “no man hath
power over the wind to retain the wind; neither hath he
power over the day of death;” the pietist simply reminds
us, “neither shall wickedness deliver him that is given to
it” (8.8). The original book ends with the advice: “ Rejoice,
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O young man, in thy youth; and let thy heart cheer thee in
the days of thy youth, and walk in the ways of thy heart,
and in the sight of thine eyes” (11.9); sentiments, of course,
equally hostile to the pious and the prudent. But the Hasid,
as in Job, takes the last word, and adds, with a shaking
index finger, “But know thou, that for all these things God
will bring thee into judgment” (11.9). Replying to the
author’s expressed doubt regarding man’s spirit, whether
it really ascends on high, the Hasid continues, after a vivid
description of old age and its weakness,
“And the dust returneth to the earth as it was.
And the spirit returneth unto God who gave it” (12.7).
The present book of Koheleth thus appears, under critical
examination, to be a symposium of all the three dominant
philosophies of its day. With its glosses properly labeled,
it alone might serve, small as it is, to provide us with a clear
picture of the opposing forces which within a century were
destined to rend Israel into two bitterly hostile and mutually
irreconcilable camps.
E. The Psalms
Written in the tense atmosphere of pre-Maccabean Jeru-
salem, the Psalms of the Persian and Greek periods, no less
than the Wisdom and historical literature, are strongly
partisan; signals, as it were, of the approaching storm. The
Psalms are indeed all alike in their prayerful mood; and
may appear to the superficial reader at one in their complete
faith and reliance on God. But closer scrutiny reveals
profound differences, corresponding to those dividing the
patrician and plebeian maxims in Proverbs.®
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241
Like Job and Koheleth, most of the psalms are an irre-
pressible welling forth of the plebeian spirit which, no longer
able to endure the crushing weight and darkness of sub-
terranean existence, broke out magnificently into the bright
sunshine of a divine world. Not the priests of the higher
clergy, but the subordinate Levites, were the singers in the
Temple. And it is not the aristocratic families of Jedaiah
and Joiarib, but the humble guilds of Korah and Asaf to
whom the psalms are accredited. Even those psalms which
were composed outside the Temple were most frequently
of plebeian origin. They were written by learned scribes
and scholars, such as were far more frequent among the
traders and shopkeepers than among the nobility. Hence
the larger part of the Psalter is in close sympathy with the
plebeian teaching. The few patrician hymns serve merely
as a foil to contrast with the far more numerous works of
the plebeians. This is doubtless how it came to pass that
this ancient work has served for so many centuries as a
solace to aching hearts. The apparel of sorrow changes;
the souFs anguish remains the same.
Some of the Psalms still mirror for us the spiritual con-
flict through which the Judean of the third century B.C.E.
passed as he was torn hither and thither by opposing schools
of thought. Perhaps the most moving of this group is
Psalm 73.
^'But as for me, my feet were almost gone.
My steps had well nigh slipped.
For I was envious at the arrogant,
When I saw the prosperity of the wicked.
For there are no pangs at their death,
And their body is sound.
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In the trouble of man they are not;
Neither are they plagued like men.
Therefore pride is as a chain about their neck;
Violence covereth them as a garment . . .
And they say: ‘How doth God know?
And is there knowledge in the Most High ?’ . . »
Surely in vain have I cleansed my heart.
And washed my hands in innocency;
For all the day have I been plagued.
And my chastisement came every morning” (2-14).
Two reflections save the poet from the brink of scepticism.
He discovers that the wicked do not always prosper:
“Surely Thou settest them in slippery places;
Thou hurlest them down to utter ruin.
How are they become a desolation in a moment!
They are wholly consumed by terrors” (18-19).
But a nobler and more significant thought turns his mind
from this vengeful mood. He realizes suddenly that his own
unhappiness is altogether unwarranted:
“But I was brutish and ignorant;
I was as a beast before Thee.
Nevertheless I am continually with Thee;
Thou boldest my right hand . . .
Whom have I in heaven but Thee?
And beside Thee I desire none upon earth.
My flesh and my heart faileth.
But God is the rock of my heart and my portion for
ever” (22-26).
Not all the plebeians had to struggle through doubt to
arrive at faith. Like the Hasidean glossator to Proverbs,
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243
some of the psalmists are unshakably convinced that the
reward of virtue is happiness. Such a poet was the author
of Psalm 37, in which occur the most emphatic assertions
of pietist faith to be found in the Scriptures:
“Fret not thyself because of evil-doers.
Neither be thou envious against them that work
unrighteousness.
For they shall soon wither like the grass.
And fade as the green herb.
Trust in the Lord and do good;
Dwell in the land, and cherish faithfulness.
So shalt thou delight thyself in the Lord;
And He shall give thee the petitions of thy heart.
Commit thy way unto the Lord;
Trust also in Him, and He will bring it to pass . . . ”
(1-5).
Like the Hasid teacher of Proverbs, he maintains:
“Better is a little that the righteous hath
Than the abundance of many wicked.
For the arms of the wicked shall be broken;
But the Lord upholdeth the righteous” (16-17).
He holds that human actions are largely determined by God-
“It is of the Lord that a man’s goings are established;
And He delighteth in his way” (23).
The same teaching is found again in the beautiful Psalm 33 :
“A king is not saved by the multitude of a host;
A mighty man is not delivered by great strength.
A horse is a vain thing for safety;
Neither doth it afford escape by its great strength.
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THE PHARISEES
Behold, the eye of the Lord is toward them that fear Him,
Toward them that wait for His mercy” (16-18).
But God’s power is not merely in saving men from evil;
He looks into their inward parts and knows all their thoughts.
The wicked delude themselves with the notion:
. . The Lord will not see.
Neither will the God of Jacob give heed” (94.7).
But the psalmist asks them:
“Consider, ye brutish among the people;
And ye fools, when will ye understand?
He that planted the ear, shall He not hear?
He that formed the eye, shall He not see?” (94.8-9).
Perhaps the psalmist is here protesting particularly against
a secularized and worldly priesthood, in whom sanctity has
become mere sanctimoniousness, and piety is supplanted by
power, for he says:
“Shall the seat of wickedness have fellowship with Thee,
Which frameth mischief by statute ?
They gather themselves together against the soul of
the righteous.
And condemn innocent blood” (20-21).
Two of the psalmists explicitly deny human freedom of
choice and pray to God that they may repent and be brought
back to Him. One of them prays:
“Behold, Thou desirest truth in the inward parts;
Make me, therefore, to know wisdom in mine inmost
heart . . .
Create me a clean heart, O God;
And renew a stedfast spirit within” (51.8-12).
THE PLEBEIAN PARADOX
245
That he was a plebeian and not a patrician follows from his
violent attack on the Temple service, which was so especially
revered among the nobility:
“O Lord, open Thou my lips;
And my mouth shall declare Thy praise.
For Thou delightest not in sacrifice, else would I give it;
Thou hast no pleasure in burnt-offering.
The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit;
A broken and a contrite heart, O God, Thou wilt not
despise” (51.17-19).
The argus-eyed glossator could not permit this anti-eccle-
siastical sentiment to pass without comment, and so he adds,
as though the original words applied only to the exile when
there was no temple:
“Do good in Thy favour unto Zion;
Build Thou the walls of Jerusalem.
Then wilt Thou delight in the sacrifices of righteousness,
in burnt-offering and whole offering;
Then will they offer bullocks upon Thine altar” (20-21).
A similar denial of free will occurs in Psalm 86. The
author of that prayer is confessedly a plebeian:
“Incline Thine ear, 0 Lord, and answer me;
For I am poor and needy . . .
In the day of my trouble I call upon Thee;
For Thou wilt answer me . . .
O God, the proud are risen up against me.
And the company of violent men have sought after
my soul.
And have not set Thee before them” (1—14).
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THE PHARISEES
He asks for divine mercy, but especially;
“Teach me, O Lord, Thy way, that I may walk in Thy
truth;
Make one my heart to fear Thy name” (11).
It may seem to us altogether natural that one should pray
to God for a righteous heart and for understanding; we do
so continually in formal worship, without considering that
we are thereby denying freedom of choice. But what has
become trite and commonplace to us through the usage of
two millennia, was meant in bald literalness by the ancient
poet. When he asked God to “make his heart one to fear
the Divine Name,” he really believed that virtue emanates,
together with wickedness, from God alone. We never find
such a conception in patrician works; but it is consistent
with the system of thought developed by the plebeians,
inherited from them by the Pharisees, and taken over from
the Pharisees by both rabbinic Judaism and Christianity.
Priestly psalms, like later Sadducean philosophy, are not
marked by positive affirmations or definite negations, but
by their strange omissions. The doctrines of diligence, thrift,
and success would hardly have been appropriate in any
prayer. Yet Psalms 93, and 94-99, a group which obviously
belongs together, extolling the already existent theocracy
of the Second Commonwealth and the beauty of the Temple,
are clearly the work of either priests or men of priestly
sympathies; men to whom the existing social order appears
glorious and utterly without flaw. Since the High Priest
is Judea’s foremost citizen, the Lord, whom he represents,
has already come into His Kingdom. It is impossible to
catch the full spirit of self-satisfaction and patrician jollity
running through these poems without reading the whole of
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247
them. Yet it may be well to cite a few verses whose signifi-
cance is especially to be noted:
“The Lord reigneth; He is clothed in majesty;
The Lord is clothed. He hath girded Himself with
strength;
Yea, the world is established, that it cannot be moved.
Thy throne is established of old;
Thou art from everlasting ...” (93.1-2).
O come, let us sing unto the Lord ;
Let us shout for joy to the Rock of our salvation.
Let us come before His presence with thanksgiving,
Let us shout for joy unto Him with psalms , . .
O come, let us bow down and bend the knee;
Let us kneel before the Lord our Maker;
For He is our God,
And we are the people of His pasture, and the flock of
His hand” (95.1-7).
“O sing unto the Lord a new song;
Sing unto the Lord, all the earth.
Sing unto the Lord, bless His name;
Proclaim His salvation from day to day . . .
Say among the nations: ‘The Lord reigneth.’
The world also is established that it cannot be
moved . . .
Let the sea roar, and the fulness thereof;
Let the field exult, and all that is therein;
Then shall all the trees of the wood sing for joy
Before the Lord, for He is come;
For He is come to judge the earth;
He will judge the world with righteousness.
And the peoples in His faithfulness” (96.1-13).
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THE PHARISEES
It is noteworthy that judgment hangs over the pagan peoples,
but not apparently over the oppressors in Israel. This be-
comes even more evident in the following psalm:
“The Lord reigneth; let the earth rejoice;
Let the multitude of isles be glad . . .
Ashamed be all they that serve graven images,
That boast themselves of things of nought;
Bow down to Him, all ye gods . . .
Zion heard and was glad,
And the daughters of Judah rejoiced;
Because of Thy judgments, O Lord.
For Thou, Lord, art most high above all the earth;
Thou art exalted far above all gods” (97.1-9).
A Hasidean glossator here interrupts with these verses,
altogether alien to the spirit of the poem, and in no way
integrated with it, even in form:
“O ye that love the Lord, hate evil;
He preserveth the soul of all his pious saints [Hasidim ] ;
He delivereth them out of the hand of the wicked.
Light is sown for the righteous.
And gladness for the upright in heart.
Be glad in the Lord, ye righteous;
And give thanks to His holy name” (10 ff.).
The fundamental motif of the collection continues in the
following two psalms: joy in the Kingdom of God and exulta-
tion over all the heathen. Once only does a new thought
occur, and this serves to show the priestly interest of the
author. In Psalm 99, he says:
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249
“Moses and Aaron among His priests,
And Samuel among them that called upon His name,
Did call upon the Lord, and He answered them” (99.6).
Glosses, like those which have been indicated, are prob-
ably as frequent in the Psalms as in Proverbs or Koheleth.
But in short poems, it is not always easy to prove that they
are intrusions, and the mere difference in intellectual out-
look cannot itself justify excision. Sometimes, however,
we are fortunate in the possession of purely literary evidence
to strengthen the suspicions aroused by differences in ethical
and theological ideas. Psalm 136, which is based on the
first twelve verses of Psalm 135 (merely adding the response:
“For His mercy endureth for ever”), contains at the end
four verses to which there is nothing corresponding in the
preceding psalm. These verses are, characteristically, plebe-
ian, in contrast to the rest which is essentially patrician
and nationalist:
“Who remembered us in our low estate.
For His mercy endureth forever;
And hath delivered us from our adversaries.
For His mercy endureth forever;
Who giveth food to all flesh.
For His mercy endureth forever.
O give thanks to the God of Heaven,
For His mercy endureth forever.”
Without these additional strophes the Psalm contains 22
verses, which were doubtless intended to correspond to the
number of letters in the Hebrew alphabet. The interpolation
of the four additional verses destroys the correspondence.
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THE PHARISEES
The addition of the Hasidean gloss only helps to empha-
size the patrician character of the remainder of the psalm.
Somewhat like the writer of Esther, the psalmist gloats over
the destruction of the heathen:
“To Him that smote Egypt in their first-born . . .
And brought out Israel from among them . . .
With a strong hand, and with an outstretched arm . . .
To Him who divided the Red Sea in sunder . . .
And made Israel to pass through the midst of it . . .
But overthrew Pharaoh and his host in the Red Sea . . .
To Him that led His people through the wilderness . . .
To Him that smote great kings . . .
And slew mighty kings ....
Sihon, King of the Amorites . . .
And Og, King of Bashan ...” (136.10-20).
Not a word in praise of God, the Lawgiver; no suggestion
of thanks for the miracle of the manna. The writer’s mind
is fixed on war and he revels in the thought of Israel’s
ancient victories.
F. The Maccabean Age and Atter
The Maccabean victories put an end to plebeian cynicism
and heresy, and encouraged both the pietists and the Wisdom
teachers. The marvelous deliverance of Israel from the
Syrian yoke justified all the glorious prophecies of the past.
The Jobs and the Koheleths could no longer claim that the
world was governed by Accident or Evil; for all had seen
the salvation of the Lord. Yet the comparison of the Books
of Esther and Judith have already given us an insight into
the varying interpretations put on the most natural events
THE PLEBEIAN PARADOX
251
by the rival groups of patricians and plebeians. The patri-
cian was always ready to emphasize the human element in
achievement; the plebeian, the divine. The Hasid needed
no supernatural cataclysm to reveal to him the finger of
God; he saw it in everyday occurrences. His own ingenuity,
when it succeeded, seemed to him a divine miracle. The
patrician, on the other hand, took credit even for fortuitous
coincidence. Hence the patrician gave the Hasmonean
generalship and diplomacy an unduly large share in the
unexpected victory of the Judeans, whereas the plebeian
denied them any merit whatever. The bitterness of the
struggle between faith in Prudence and faith in Providence
was thus not at all mitigated when the harassed Judeans
finally achieved independence; on the contrary, it was
increased.
The Sadducees, followers of the Hasmoneans and descend-
ants of the pre-Maccabean patricians, insisted, as Josephus
correctly informs us, that achievement is not a matter of
fortune, fate or Divine Grace, but rather of sheer human
prudence and diligence. Opposing them, the Pharisees
taught faith in God, holding that all things are from Him.
Yet, at the same time, they could not deny human free will,
which lay at the basis of their doctrine of responsibility for
sin. Thus they maintained both teachings without succeed-
ing entirely in reconciling them.
The Testaments of the Twelve Patriarchs, a plebeian
work generally dated about 100 B.C.E., attributes sin to
the machinations of hostile spirits (T. Reuben 2.2; 3.3 ff.;
T. Simeon 2.7; 3.1; T. Judah 16.1; T. Dan 1.6; T. Gad 1.9;
3.1). Yet it holds that man can escape the allurements of
these satans through prayer and caution; and it insists that
man can choose between the “two ways” which have beerk
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set before him (T. Asher 1.5). The contemporary writer of
the Book of Jubilees, endeavoring to reconcile Pharisaism
with Sadducism, adopts the plebeian teaching of “Provi-
dence plus Freedom” without reservation. Man’s future is
preordained, and is engraved on heavenly tablets. “And
the judgment of all is ordained and written on the heavenly
tablets in righteousness — even the judgment of all who
depart from the path which is ordained for them to walk in ;
and if they walk not therein, judgment is written down for
every creature and for every kind” (5.13). A century later
the same idea was expressed by the Pharisaic author of the
Psalms of Solomon. He maintains that
“Our works are subject to our own choice and power,
To do right or wrong in the work of our hands;
And in Thy righteousness Thou visitest the sons of
men” (9.7).
Yet the oppressor can accomplish nothing without the
will of God, it is He who gives him power over the righteous:
“For no man taketh spoil from a mighty man.
Who then can take aught of all that Thou has made
except Thou, Thyself, givest.
For man and his portion lie before Thee in balance,
He cannot add to, so as to enlarge, what has been
prescribed by Thee” (5.4 ff.).
Ethicists rather than metaphysicians, the Pharisees found
the combination of the two opposing formulae convenient
and helpful. If a man tried to further his material interests
by ordinary methods of prudence, the Pharisee smiled at his
naivet^ in thinking that he could achieve success without
the aid of God. “There is no wisdom, nor counsel, nor
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253
understanding, in opposition to the Lord.” Human judg-
ment itself was but an instrument in the hands of God.
But if anyone tried to draw the conclusion that man was not
responsible for his acts, the Pharisee insisted that he was.
In the words of R. Akiba: “All is foreseen, but freedom is
granted.”®
Josephus tries to explain this paradox in a wordy passage,
which really adds nothing to R. Akiba’s terse apothegm.
Josephus says: “While they [the Pharisees] hold that aU
things are done by Fate, they do not deny the freedom of
men to act as they see fit. Their notion is that it has pleased
God to create such a temperament whereby what He wills is
done, yet so that the choice is given men to pursue vice or
virtue.”^
In another passage, written at an earlier time, Josephus
had offered a simpler explanation of the difficulty inherent
in the Pharisaic view. He there says: “The Pharisees
ascribe everything to Fate and to God; yet they maintain
that it lies principally with man to do what is right or other-
wise; although Fate shares in every action.”® This inter-
pretation, too, has its talmudic parallel in the dictum: “All
is in the hands of God, save the fear of God.”*
But neither the ingenuity of the Talmud nor the prolixity
of Josephus could resolve the difficult puzzle which still
persists as a perplexing problem until this day. We shall
probably never know — at least not till man has evolved
far beyond his present capacities — whether the paradox is
inherent in the mind at a certain stage in its development,
or in the universe itself. Looking at himself from within,
the ancient plebeian of Jerusalem, like his successor in the
modern industrial world, saw his acts proceeding from
personal volition and choice. But then rising out of himself
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THE PHARISEES
and gazing back, with the objectivity which he used to
scrutinize his neighbor, he discovered how little in his life
was a matter of decision and how much of pure chance.
Heredity, environment, family connections, physical appear-
ance, accidental injuries and escapes, seemed to play a
determining part in human life. The paradox to which the
Pharisee cleaved thus seemed as natural to him as the air
he breathed; he could not tell, any more than we can, how
much of it represented objective reality and how much sub-
jective delusion. Prophetic vision or mephitic nightmare,
it was inescapable. His comparative poverty prevented him
from admitting the principle that “if you wish it you can be
successful”; and on the other hand, his freedom from clan,
family, and tribal connections, left his ego exposed, inca-
pable of hiding under the protecting covers of a social group.
Among the provincials outside of Jerusalem, the whole
problem never arose. There the individual still lay hidden
in the womb of his clan, not even desiring to be born. The
conception of human freedom was naturally alien to a people
who did not yet recognize their ego.
Among the poorer farmers of the Judean hills arose the
order of Essenes who, according to Josephus, were scattered
over the country in small communistic groups, tended
together their little farms, and asked from the earth nothing
more than enough to sustain life. These Essenes had been
won away from their rural complacency by Pharisaic teach-
ers, but like many pupils they had gone beyond their masters,
carrying the received doctrine to its logical conclusion. They
found the doctrine of determinism which they had received
in their coimtry communities, natural and logical. Being
unworried by the individualism of the metropolitan Phari-
THE PLEBEIAN PARADOX
255
seesj they could assert without any qualification that “fate
determines all things and that nought befalls man but what
is according to its determination/"^
As the Pharisaic Order spread among the people of Judea
and counted within itself all “but the wealthiest’" nobles,
it was inevitable that it should divide on the question of
determinism, as on the question of angels. The forces which
had made the pre-Maccabean patricians and the Sadducees
believe in human effort, operated also among the Pharisees
when they developed a patrician wing. The whole Pharisaic
Order accepted as a matter of course the doctrine of faith
and Divine Providence. But they disagreed regarding the
manner in which Providence operates in human life. The
plebeian Pharisees insisted that the future is not in man’s
hands to change, either through prudence or through piety.
Man must be willing to entrust it entirely to God’s mercies.
The patrician faction of the Order held that while human
prudence, such as the Sadducees depended on, might fail,
piety was an effective means of changing one’s fortunes,
and that even foresight had its place in the ethical life. To
strengthen their position, the plebeians developed into a
fundamental principle of their faction the ancient teaching
of the merit of the fathers {zekut abot)^ which seemed neces-
sarily to imply the pre-determination of man’s fate.^ The
patricians, rejecting the principle, pointed to the many
biblical passages which explicitly denied that the virtue of
ancestors can help descendants. The oldest recorded con-
troversy on the subject, among the Pharisees, is that between
the two leading scholars of the middle of the first century
B.C.E., Shemayah and Abtalyon. Shemayah insists that
the Red Sea was opened before the Israelites in reward for
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THE PHARISEES
the faith which Abraham displayed; Abtalyon, the patrician^
maintains that the miracle was caused by the merit of the
Israelites themselves.®
It is altogether probable that this controversy regarding
the ancient history of their people was associated with
different policies of these scholars toward contemporary
events;^® and that it is recorded for that reason. Neverthe-
less the positions which they take are entirely in accord
with the traditional theologies of their classes.
This is evident from a study of the teaching of the later
patrician sages. A hundred years after Shemayah and
Abtalyon, Akabiah ben Mahalalel, the foremost Pharisaic
patrician of his day, when asked by his son for a recom-
mendation to the other sages, answered, in what seems to
have been a maxim, “Thy deeds will bring thee near, and
thy deeds will remove thee.”^*
In the following generation, R. Eliezer ben Hyrcanus and
R. Joshua ben Hananya discussed the application of the
principle to national policy. R. Eliezer maintained that
“if the people of Israel repent and do good deeds they will
be redeemed, otherwise they will not be redeemed.”*®
Joshua insisted that they would be redeemed in either event.
But, as usual, it remained for the scholars of the next gen-
eration, R. Akiba and R. Ishmael, to formulate the opposing
doctrines into philosophical ideas. R. Akiba said, “A father
determines the fate of his son in five respects: in regard to
beauty, strength, riches, wisdom, and longevity.” This was
denied by his colleagues, who would only agree that the
child’s fate depended on his father during minority. “Where
have you seen,” R. Akiba asked them, “a person who was
blind when he was a minor and suddenly gained his sight
at puberty?”*® Yet this would naturally happen frequently
THE PLEBEIAN PARADOX
257
if children suffered for their parents’ sins during their
minority, but were freed from the incubus when they reached
their majority.
As the schools of Ishmael and Akiba developed, they con-
tinued their controversy regarding the doctrine of Zekut
Abot, and the midrashim which emanate from the rival
schools have perpetuated the difference in their explanations
of a whole series of biblical verses.^^
On the other hand, R. Akiba was compelled to defend
the traditional plebeian paradox of Providence plus Free-
dom against the provincials who, accepting the principle of
Providence, were inclined to limit the scope of human choice
even in ethics. The leader of these was the Galilean sage,
Simeon ben Azzai, Akiba’s son-in-law. He taught that
“freedom is granted only in the sense of the verse, ‘So far
as concerneth the scorn ers. He addeth to their scorn; but
unto the righteous. He giveth grace’ ” (Prov. 3.34). The
verse implies that if a man desires to study the Torah a
little, he will be given opportunity to study it much; if he
desires to forget even a little of it, he will be made to forget
much more.“ Putting the same thought more succinctly,
he said: “The reward of observance is that it leads to more
observance; the punishment of sin, that it leads to further
sin.”^® With even greater emphasis, he denied the effective-
ness of piety or prudence on man’s life. “By thy name,” he
said, “shalt thou be called; in thy place shalt thou be seated;
and thine own shall be given thee. No man can touch that
which is prepared for his fellow; and no kingdom can take
a hair’s breadth of what is destined for its neighbor.”^’
Akiba admitted the power of habit, but could not see how
that affected his doctrine of freedom in the moral sphere.
“The attraction of sin,” he said, “is at first as feeble as a
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THE PHARISEES
spider’s thread; but ultimately it becomes as powerful as a
ship’s cable.”'^*
In agreement with this teaching, Simeon ben Zoma,
Akiba’s younger colleague, remarked, “Who is strong? He
who rules his passions (yezer).”^^
While the plebeians disagreed among themselves regarding
the place of free will in their system, there was one subject
regarding which they had no doubt — the futility of pru-
dence, and hence of anxiety. Of their great sage, Hillel, it
is recorded that on one occasion, returning to his native
city, he saw a large crowd massed in the market place,
uttering painful and pathetic cries. It was obvious that some
accident had occurred, and Hillel’s companions were anxious
for the safety of their families. The saint alone retained his
equanimity. “I know that there is nothing wrong in my
home,” he quietly remarked to his followers. And with that
assurance he proceeded into the city to inquire after the
cause of the commotion.^"
The tale is probably legendary, but it illustrates what
those who invented it, the disciples of Hillel, regarded as the
ideal response to danger. Hillel would have been lacking in
true faith, had he, noticing the disturbance, feared for his
own wife and children. When he had left he had entrusted
them to the care of God. To display any anxiety was to
suspect the Guardian. Accidents might indeed occur, but
only to those who lacked full trust.
Desiring to give expression to his faith, Hillel would never
prepare for the Sabbath till Friday. “God is to be blessed
each day,” he would say, “for the day’s goods.” But
Shammai, his patrician opponent, laying less stress on the
teaching of trustfulness in God than on the ritual observance
of the Sabbath, “spent all his life in preparing for the Sab-
THE PLEBEIAN PARADOX
259
bath. If he came across a goodly animal, he would say, this
will be for the Sabbath. If next day he found a better one,
he would say, this will be for the Sabbath, and he would
consume the first on the weekday. So that all his life he
was continually enjoying the Sabbath.”*^ This was not
merely a personal idiosyncrasy, but a principle of his faction.
It is recorded in the name of Hananiah ben Hezekiah ben
Gorion, a patrician leader of the last Temple days, that he
considered the procedure a biblical commandment. “Re-
member the Sabbath day to keep it holy,” means, “Re-
member it from the beginning of the week.”^^
Several generations after Hillel, the teaching of his school
was summed up by R. Eleazar ben Azariah (ca. 100 C.E.)
in these words: “Whoever has sufficient food for the
day and says, ‘What shall I eat tomorrow?’ is lacking in
faith.’’^-
But this doctrine was by no means accepted by the patri-
cian sages. During the Hadrianic persecutions, the famous
R. Hanina ben Teradyon used to defy the Roman authorities
by reading the Torah in public. A great patrician teacher,
R. Joseph ben Kismah, meeting him, warned him against
impending danger. “Do you not know,” said he, “that this
nation [the Romans] has been given dominion from Heaven ?
They have destroyed the Temple, and slain the pious, and
slaughtered the nobles, and yet they are existing! Yet I
hear that you publicly read the Law, in violation of their
decrees!” “God will have mercy,” piously answered R.
Hanina. Whereupon R. Jose answered in tones altogether
suitable to the Wisdom teachers, “I am talking common
sense to you, and you say, ‘God will have mercy.’ I shall be
surprised if they do not burn you together with the scroll.”^^
And so indeed it happened.
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THE PHARISEES
Even in the school of R. Akiba, we find R. Meir, the sage
who so frequently expresses patrician ideas, denying Prov-
idence in individual human life. “God,” he says, “is like a
judge who spreads a curtain before him and knows not what
proceeds without.”®* The earnest protest of R. Meir’s
colleagues against this heresy shows that it was meant
seriously, and that R. Meir, in the second century of the
Common Era, actually held views akin to those defended by
the patricians for six centuries before him.
While these meager records would not of themselves justify
any generali2ations regarding conflicts within the rabbinic
circles, taken together with the other evidence which has
been adduced for earlier differences between patricians and
plebeians, they leave no doubt that the old conflict persisted
even within the Pharisaic group. The issue appears only
rarely in the rabbinic works, because the piety of the sages
softened the native self-confidence and arrogance of the
wealthy among them. And whatever expression regarding
prudence was given in patrician doctrine, was lost by suc-
ceeding generations who chose to preserve out of the past
only that which they regarded as helpful and constructive.
XIII. THE ORAL LAW
“The Pharisees,” says Josephus, “have delivered to the
people by tradition from their fathers a great many observ-
ances which are not written in the law of Moses; and for
that reason the Sadducean group reject them, saying that
only those observances are obligatory which are in the
written word, but that those derived from the tradition of
the forefathers need not be kept.’’^
This prolix statement simply confirms the talmudic record
that the Sadducees rejected the Oral Law, which the Phari-
sees held equally authoritative with the Written Law. But
it tells us nothing about the origin and nature of the tra-
ditions which constituted the Oral Law. Why should the
Sadducees have rejected them? And whence did the Phari-
sees derive them? The answer to these questions must be
sought in the development of Jewish legal institutions during
the Second Commonwealth, and shows that the issue of
the Oral Law, like those of resurrection, angelology, and
Divine Providence, was fundamentally social and economic
rather than academic and theological.
In pre-exilic Judah, questions of ritual law appear to have
been settled by the priests, while civil and criminal litiga-
tion was brought before the elders of the city. This, at any
rate, is the arrangement set up in the Torah which, however,
makes the priests of the main sanctuary in Jerusalem a
supreme court in all matters of dispute, whether they con-
cern bodily injury, physical damage, or religious ceremonial.*
During the exile, however, the priests and the elders were
261
262
THE PHARISEES
no longer free to devote themselves to this form of public
service. The elders ceased to be the leisured patrician sheiks
they had been in their homeland; the priests no longer could
get their sustenance from the table of the Lord. The new
prayer worship which was established in the exiled com-
munity provided for some of the priests and prophets, but
most of them had to turn to gainful occupation for a liveli-
hood. It was quite natural that some of them should
seek to combine with their religious functions the genteel
occupation of the scribe, the public secretary and notary.®
The same conditions which in the Middle Ages brought about
such close relations between clerk and cleric, operated also
in Babylonia a millennium and a half earlier. The so/er
knew not merely how to write, but also what to write. Just
as the carpenter was also architect, mathematician, and
teacher of his craft, so the writer was author, composer, pen-
man, and instructor. In days when writing was used only
for important affairs, to commemorate historical incidents,
to transact business, to teach ethics, and to perpetuate law,
the public amanuensis was necessarily a religious and legal
functionary.®
More learned in the inherited literature of his people than
his fellows, the professional scribe was called upon, in the
absence of priest or prophet, to read the Law or the ancient
prophetic writings. So that while on the one hand the min-
ister tended to become the notary, on the other, the notary
tended to become a minister. Readers who are conversant
with the administration of religious affairs in new Jewish
settlements like those of rural America and the British
colonies, will find a parallel in the attempts which are fre-
quently made to combine the usual duties of the traditional
rabbi with those of other public officials, like the pedagogue
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263
and the hazzan (the reader of the prayers in the synagogue).
In medieval Germany the duty of reading the service was
almost universally associated with the religious guidance of
the community; men like Rabbenu Gershom (ca. 1000 C.E.),
R. Meir of Rothenburg (ca. 1250 C.E.), R. Israel Isserlein
(ca. 1400 C.E.), and R. Jacob Molin (ca. 1500 C.E.) were
almost as famous for their rendition of the prayers as for
their scholarship and erudition. Somewhat similarly the
ancient Judaites in Babylonia were forced by the sheer
pressure of economy to merge the two callings of minister
and scribe.
When the Judaites returned to Palestine the development
was apparently accelerated by what appears to have been
a purely fortuitous circumstance. Ezra, who arrived in
Palestine in 457 B.C.E. protected by letters from the Great
King, put himself at the head of the teachers of Law. The
fact that he held a recognized government position, and
was formally entitled Sofer Data^ (Scribe or Secretary for
Jewish Law) raised the status of all his colleagues who
dealt with the Torah. This, combined with the influence of
Egypt, where the scribe was held in high esteem, prevented
the institution, which had proven so useful in Babylonia,
from disappearing.
The trained scribes continued to serve as teachers and
synagogue leaders, the more especially because of the effort
being made to replace the ancient village altar of provincial
Judea with the synagogue. Where no priest or prophet
could be found, the scribe was needed in the reestablished
homeland, as he had been in Babylonia, as synagogue
functionary.
Since the primary vocation of the scribe had been to
make copies of the Law, he naturally became its most exact
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THE PHARISEES
master. The father who wished his son to understand the
mysteries of the divine revelation and who felt himself
incompetent to teach him, necessarily apprenticed him to
one of these erudite copyist-teachers. Centuries later it
was still usual in Palestine to describe a liberal education as
instruction in ‘'writing/^® The pen was the key to learning,
if not to power.
Thus the calling of the scribe, which had provided an
escape to the priesthood in Babylonia, became its rival in
the new commonwealth. The priest could no longer claim,
as his predecessor in the First Commonwealth had done,
the sole mastery of the Law; there were laymen who excelled
him. While he was concerned only with that part of the
Torah which dealt with the Temple and the sacrifices, the
scribe knew the whole of it. Free alike from the burdens
of wealth and of grinding toil, he could devote himself
without interruption to the study of the Torah. The priest’s
time was taken up with service at the Temple, attention
to business, contact with friendly farmers, and dutiful
attendance on his superiors, but the poor plebeian scholar-
scribe did his daily stint, ate his meager fare, and proceeded
to his book. Without any ability, therefore, to challenge
the power or prestige of the priesthood, the scribe yet had
the authority which always attaches sooner or later to exact
knowledge.
But the rivalry of priest and scribe was not merely pro-
fessional, like that of allopath and homoeopath, it was also
social. The wealth which accrued to the priest made him
the spokesman of the patrician and upper middle class
groups; the scribe remained a humble plebeian. After all he
was a mere craftsman, living in a community where crafts-
men were regarded as little better than paupers. No father
THE ORAL LAW
265
who could raise his child to inherit his farm would train him
to the vocation of a copyist. This may seem strange to us,
because in our days the urban secretary is so much more
affluent than the average peasant. We may also wonder
that the priest, who derived most of his income from free
will offerings, never felt himself humiliated, while the scribe
who was paid for his work was a member of a degraded
calling. But the priest received his dues from God, and not
from man; he was a member of a high and exclusive caste.
In his tribe he combined the advantages of family relation-
ship and of trade unionism, to both of which he added the
enormous advantages of religious sanction. The scribe had
no such protection. His calling was open to every mendi-
cant; it was without the buttress of either kinship, occupa-
tional restriction, or ceremonial qualification. The social
stigma which thus attached to the calling drove from it all
who by chance did attain any measure of affluence, so that
its plebeian character was perpetually reaffirmed.
The interpretations of the Law given respectively by
priest and scribe were necessarily colored by their diametri-
cally opposed social connections. The priest in his decisions
followed the patrician precedents and sympathies of the
Temple, the scribe the inherited ideas of his plebeian class.
But the power of the patrician in the state and of the
priest in the Temple made the decisions of the latter
authoritative; those of the plebeian scribe were at best a
tolerated deviation.
Before the Maccabean revolt, Pentecost was certainly
observed at the Temple on Sunday, the plebeian opposition
notwithstanding; the High Priest performed the ceremonies
on the Day of Atonement as he, and not the rabble, pleased;
the crowds, pouring water on the altar during Sukkot and
266
THE PHARISEES
marching with their willow-branches, were tolerated rather
than encouraged. The plebeian artisan and trader presum-
ably desisted from work on his Pentecost, but that was a
private matter; the national festival was that of the Temple
which was ruled by the patricians. The priest did not need
to concern himself with any distinction between the Written
Law and the Oral Interpretation; in official circles his expla-
nations were accepted as the true meaning of the written
record.
The plebeian scribe, on the other hand, convinced that
his ideas were correct and corresponded to the true will of
God, had no choice but to transmit them orally to his
disciples and followers as the authoritative explanation of
Scripture. Asked inevitably how he knew that he, and not
the priests at the Temple, was right, he could only point
to the ancestral tradition. But the warrant of his teacher
was not enough, unless he added that it went back to older
authorities, and ultimately to the inspired prophets them-
selves. In its final form the doctrine held that the plebeian
traditions antedated even the prophets, having been revealed
to Moses as a divine commentary on the written code.®
The Oral Law thus became a platform of articulate, plebe-
ian protest against the official interpretation of the Written
Law. The patricians rejected it because it consisted wholly
of teachings which erhanated from the plebeian interests
and needs and were disavowed by the Temple priests —
the spokesmen of the patricians. But they not only denied
the validity of the plebeian deductions, they were at times
tempted even to suppress them. Rejected and persecuted,
the scribe was no longer content with the oral traditions
which were a repository of plebeian ideas; he read into the
Law new applications of the old principles even when the
THE ORAL LAW
267
literal meaning of the text was against him. He became in a
real sense the successor of the urban plebeian prophets of
the First Commonwealth. Indeed, he went beyond them,
for while the prophets of the First Commonwealth had
continually inveighed against the aggression of the powerful,
their criticisms had been based on nothing more objective
than an intuitive sense of social justice. Powerful though
this had been, it needed a system of juridical decisions to
implement it. The rapacious landowners who, according to
Isaiah (5.8), seized the property of the small farmer, acted,
we may be certain, in absolute conformity with the existing
civil law. They did not hire brigands or bandits to dislodge
their victims; they resorted to the more “civilized'* and
orderly processes of loan, court action, and foreclosure.
Yet these legal forms did not shield them from the prophet*s
wrath, for he was interested not in the means employed,
but in the ends achieved.
The urban plebeian could not rest quiescent under this
oppression by the patrician. The plebeian was passive and
resigned, but he had to give scope to his mind and his imagi-
nation, which were always asking of him what he would do if
he were in power. The Torah was, for him, an ideal and divine
instrument of government; if injustice prevailed under its
supposed rule, it was the student's duty to show how God's
word was being misinterpreted, misunderstood, and mis-
applied.
This involved the adjustment of the Written Law and its
further development. In dealing with the Torah, the plebe-
ian, quite unconsciously, was faced with the dilemma of
choosing between loyalty to the letter, which for all its
humane interests was yet fixed and unbending, and the
spirit, which was dynamic and living.
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THE PHARISEES
Biblical Law, for instance, gave parents greater power over
their children than plebeian ideals of the fourth and third
century B.C.E. considered just. Deuteronomy (21.16, 18)
had taken away from the father the right of summary execu-
tion without due process of law, and had limited the pos-
sibility of disinheritance. Leviticus (25.44) had further
abolished the sale of girls into slavery. Yet both sons and
daughters remained the property of the father; the son’s
work belonged to his parent, and the daughter, no longer
offered for sale as a slave, still carried, as a purchasable wife,
some of the stigma of her earlier status.
Some time during the Second Commonwealth, plebeian
law met this situation by limiting the whole biblical Law
concerning sons and daughters to children under the age of
puberty. There is no warrant whatever for this interpreta-
tion in Scripture. But it seemed common sense to the
plebeian, and he presumed that it must be true.'^
Two early Maccabean works, the Testaments of the
Twelve Patriarchs and the Book of Jubilees,* imply this
interpretation of the law. Both of them give Dinah’s age
at the time of her seduction by Shechem, the son of Hamor,
as twelve years. The meaning of this is clear; the seduction
of girls over twelve is not criminally punishable, for they
have the right to give themselves to the man of their choice.
To us of a changed world, such “emancipation” of woman-
hood may seem rather extreme, but the ancients, dealing
with fetters of a Written Law, were not given any alter-
native. If they wished to free woman from subjection to
man, they were compelled to place on her heavy responsi-
bilities in tender years. Fortunately oriental maidens
mature both mentally and physically much earlier than
THE ORAL LAW
269
occidentals, and the twelve-year-old girl of the East was
far more sophisticated and understanding than the child of
a modern occidental metropolis.
Though we have no record of any controversy regarding
this reform, we may assume that so radical a departure
from ancient custom was not readily accepted by the patri-
cians. In fact, the emphasis on the law in contemporary
literature implies resistance to it. If this is true, the inter-
pretation remained for centuries idealist aspiration, rather
than accepted legislation. It was part of the plebeian plat-
form to be made practical law when the opportunity should
present itself.
Further examples of the democratic aspirations of the
plebeians which became incorporated into the Oral Law will
be given in the next chapter. But some of the regulations
which the plebeians proposed emanated not from any social
need, but were based, so far as we can see, on research into
Scripture. For the plebeian was driven to develop his Oral
Law in response not only to the pressing demands of daily
life, but also to the inner longing for intellectual activity,
which has already been described.
Animated as he was by love of the Torah and joy in it,
is it any wonder that the student ransacked the text for new
truths? He was fascinated by apparent inconsistencies,
redundancies, and ambiguities, knowing that there must be
some hidden significance in them, for “the law of the Lord
is perfect” (Ps. 19.8).
The patrician, whose human energies found other outlets
than study and whose mind had not become speculative and
studious, had less interest in the solutions or the discoveries.
The momentous problems of seeming contradictions and
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THE PHARISEES
apparent superfluities left him unruffled and unworried.
Fully accepting the divinity of the Torah, he doubtless felt
what a great patrician teacher of later generations expressed
in the words: ''The Torah speaks in the language of men.”®
A. The Tithes
Among the many apparent contradictions between various
parts of the Torah, perhaps the most glaring is that which
concerns the law of tithes. Deuteronomy specifically pro-
vides that the tenth part of all produce shall be taken to
Jerusalem and consumed there. "Thou shalt surely tithe
all the increase of thy seed, that which is brought forth in
the field year by year. And thou shalt eat before the Lord
thy God, in the place which He shall choose to cause His
name to dwell there, the tithe of thy corn, of thy wine, of
thine oil, and the firstlings of thy herd and of thy flock”
(14.22-23). The Lawgiver, recognizing that the owner may
not be able to consume the tithe in the course of a short
visit to the capital, urges that it be shared with the Levite,
the stranger, the fatherless and the widow (ibid. 29). But
in Numbers (18.21) we are told, "And unto the children of
Levi, behold, I have given all the tithe in Israel for an
inheritance, in return for their service which they serve,
even the service of the tent of meeting.” The tithe is thus
to be given to the Levites, to be used freely, save that they
must surrender ten percent of their income, in turn, to
the priests (Num. 18.26). To reconcile these opposing state-
ments was a challenging task from which plebeian ingenuity
could not withdraw.
The patricians, particularly those who lived at a distance
from Jerusalem, apparently solved the problem in their own
THE ORAL LAW
271
way, quite satisfactorily to themselves. They held that only
one tithe had to be offered; it was brought into the treasure-
house at Jerusalem^ there to be divided among the deserving
Levites, and to be eaten within the vicinity of the Temple.
This procedure is assumed in Malachi 3 Nehemiah, and
Chronicles.^° Since most of the farmers could not possibly
visit Jerusalem each year, they felt themselves free from the
obligation of any payment whatever. Malachi protests
against this laxity and demands the tithe, no less than the
heave-offering :
‘^Will a man rob God ?
Yet ye rob Me.
But ye say: ‘Wherein have we robbed Thee?"
In tithes and heave offerings . . .
Bring ye the whole tithe into the store-house,
That there may be food in My house.
And try Me now herewith,
Saith the Lord of hosts,
If I will not open to you the windows of heaven.
And pour out a blessing,
That there shall be more than sufficiency"" (3.8 ff.).
Neither the prophet nor any other writer of the period
makes any demand for the fulfillment of both the Deuter-
onomic law and that of Numbers. There is no instance
where in addition to giving the Levitical tithe, the owners
bring another for their own use in the capital. It was
apparently held that the Levitical tithe, eaten in the “House
of God,"" satisfied the requirements both of Numbers and
Deuteronomy.
But the militant plebeians were not satisfied with this
compromise. For them the tithes of Numbers and Deuter-
272
THE PHARISEES
onomy were not identical, but supplementary. A first tithe
had to be given to the Levite, and then a second tithe was
to be brought by the farmer into Jerusalem for his own use.
We may imagine how few adherents this interpretation,
involving practically a tax of twenty percent on all agri-
cultural products, found among the farmers and the patri-
cian landowners. The Levites were naturally all in favor
of it, for it allowed them to eat their tithe anywhere in
Palestine, and not necessarily in the Temple. It was simi-
larly approved, doubtless, by the traders of Jerusalem, who
welcomed the additional custom the law of the second tithe
brought to their doors. For Deuteronomy (14.25) provides
specifically that the farmer, unable to transfer his produce
to Jerusalem, may exchange it for money, and spend it in
the capital.
The plebeian Chronicler, whose primary interest is the
Levites, is silent about the second tithe, though he vigor-
ously presses the Levitical claim to the first. Doubtless he
despaired of persuading the bulk of Judea’s rural popula-
tion, who were unwilling to pay one tithe to the Levite, to
set aside a second tithe for a visit to the sanctuary. But the
author of Tobit,^^ writing about 200 B.C.E., that is, long
before the organization of the Pharisaic party, is witness to
the antiquity of the plebeian ruling, requiring both tithes.
B. Washing the Hands*
An apparent contradiction in Scripture was the foundation
for the complicated law of tithes; an equally difficult redun-
dancy led to the establishment of the system of hand-wash-
ings which was destined in later ages to give the Jews so much
security from disease, at the same time that it exposed them
* Cf. Supplement, pp. 718 flF.
THE ORAL LAW
273
to even graver peril from their enemies. The Jew, trained
to wash his hands before prayer, before eating, and on
numerous other occasions, appears to have been compara-
tively immune from certain pestilential ravages like the
Black Death. His neighbors, unacquainted with the virtues
of superior cleanliness, associated his comparative immunity
with Satan and supposed that the Jew poisoned their wells,
practiced black arts, or otherwise acted to destroy the gen-
eral population. The consequence was that having escaped
the plague, the Jew perished by the sword. The plebeian
scholars who invented the ablutions could hardly have fore-
seen these momentous consequences which were destined to
flow from their simple innovations. They were primarily
interested in this instance not in reform, but in the applica-
tion and interpretation of a biblical text, which seemed to
them especially significant. Scribes, as so many of them
were by vocation, the repetition of words in Scripture worried
them more than other readers and students. So that while
an inclination toward cleanliness may have affected their
interpretation of Scripture, it remained hidden and sub-
conscious. In the forefront of their thought, as of their
argument, was the concern with the biblical redundancy.
In the Scriptures, Moses is commanded to set up in the
tabernacle a “laver of brass” — “And thou shalt put it
between the tent of meeting and the altar and thou shalt
put water therein; and Aaron and his sons shall wash their
hands and their feet thereat; when they go into the tent of
meeting they shall wash with water, that they die not; or
when they come near to the altar to minister, to cause an
offering made by fire to smoke unto the Lord; so they shall
wash their hands and their feet, that they die not” (Ex.
30.18 ff.).
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The prolixity and periphrasis of this passage, contrasting
so sharply with the directness and clarity of most Penta-
teuchal legislation, apparently disturbed the early scribes.
They noticed that ''washing” is commanded thrice, and
came to the conclusion, altogether reasonable once their
premises are granted, that three ablutions are intended by
the Lawgiver. The priest entering the Temple courts must
bathe, approaching the altar he must wash his hands and
feet, and then leaving it he must wash his hands and feet
again.
Both the Testaments of the Twelve Patriarchs and the
older Testament of Levi cite this rule, which is also quoted
in the Book of Jubilees.^^ While none of these sources is,
so far as we can tell, pre-Maccabean, the tradition, found in
all of them, must be considerably older than they. Had it
been of patrician origin, it must have been accepted by the
priests without question. The necessity of stressing it,
during the reign of John Hyrkan, shows that the priests
resisted it, and hence that it was of plebeian origin.
It may at first seem strange that the plebeians should
be so absorbed in the question of priestly cleanliness, but a
little consideration will clarify this difficulty. The priests,
like other patricians, purified themselves only when they
had to come to the Temple. Divided into twenty-four
families, each of which served only two weeks in the year,
most of them continued impure during the greater part
of the time. Even in talmudic times, it was an everyday
experience to see the priests who had been impure all day,
returning at nightfall from the bath which they had taken
to permit them to eat the heave-oflFering.^® Four centuries
earlier, the Chronicler had maintained that "the Levites
were more upright of heart to purify themselves than the
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275
priests” (II Chron. 29.34). He was, indeed, not an unbiased
witness, yet he would hardly have dared to publish what
was contrary to common experience. It was but natural,
for the plebeians, fearing the impurity of the priests, to ask
them to bathe on entering the Temple. This would at least
mitigate the effects of a possible contamination. The rule
was thus established: “No man may enter the Temple
courts, even if he be pure, without immersing himself in
water.
But this ritual immersion could not relieve the priest of
the expressly commanded ablution of the hands and feet.
That still had to be done, after the bath, as he approached
the altar. After the sacrifice, he had to cleanse his hands and
feet from the sacrificial blood, and it was natural to apply
to this ablution the final injunction of Scripture regarding
the matter.
Perhaps the plebeian scholar was the more moved to
insist on the ablutions after the sacrifice, because for him,
as a layman, the primitive identification of the holy with the
forbidden was still real. The priest who ate the sacrificial
meat and the heave-offering could not attach to them the
complete, extra-mundane sanctity, which the rest of the
population associated with them. The priest could see why
he should wash his hands, and even bathe, before sacrificing;
but he could see no reason for washing away the holy meat
or blood when he had completed the service. He intended
to remain in his state of acquired holiness all the day. But
the Pharisaic scribe considered it a derogation of the holy
things that the priest should use the hands which had come
into contact with them for secular and profane work.^®
When Queen Salome brought the Pharisees into power
(ca. 76 B.C.E.), these ablutions became part of the regular
276
THE PHARISEES
Temple ritual. But now that their prescriptions had been
accepted, the Pharisees gradually forgot the controversy
which had surrounded them. There was no longer any need
to hand them down as part of the Oral Law. The young
priests imitated the observances of their fathers, and regarded
them as part of the Written Law. The lay teacher, left free
to give his whole attention to other controversies, soon
forgot those in which he had been victorious, and certainly
preserved no record of the arguments by which he had
vanquished his opponents. Hence it came about that the
later Pharisees and sages no longer recalled the exegetical
bases for the rule requiring the repeated ablutions of the
priests. In fact, these later scholars could not even state the
principle which was involved in the ancient controversy,
and encountered difficulty in explaining the practices which
they had themselves initiated. Had not the Testaments of
the Patriarchs and the Book of Jubilees with their earlier
record come to light in our own time, we should still be un-
able to explain the origin of many customs and rites which
now appear unquestionably to be based on the early plebeian
principle.
Among the customs which the sages were unable to explain
because they had forgotten the early plebeian insistence on
the double washing, before and after sacrifice, was the ritual
of the Day of Atonement. The High Priest, it is recorded,
would bathe five times on that day, and wash his hands
and feet ten times. The Mishna and Talmud are at a loss
to explain these numerous and apparendy unnecessary
ablutions. But the discovery of the original plebeian and
Pharisaic prescription for Temple services explains it com-
pletely. The High Priest had five sacred functions to per-
form on the Day of Atonement: the daily morning sacrifice.
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277
the ceremony of atonement in the Holy of Holies, the sin-
offering of rams for himself and for the people, the second
entry into the Holy of Holies to remove the vessels in which
the incense had been left, and finally the regular daily after-
noon offering. Each of these had to be preceded, in accord-
ance with the usual ritual, by a bath and washing the hands
and feet, and was followed by washing the hands and feet.
Our present knowledge of the original prescriptions of the
plebeians, inherited by them from the Pharisees, make the
reason for this complicated ceremonial clear. Without it,
the ceremonial is altogether inexplicable.
Another Temple regulation of Pharisaic origin was that
specifying the twelve species of evergreen trees to be used
for fuel on the altar. This rule, too, ceased to be part of the
transmitted Oral Law as soon as it became adopted practice.
It is unmentioned in the Talmud; only the Book of Jubilees
and the Testaments of the Twelve Patriarchs record it.^®
Nothing better indicates the true nature of the Oral Law
as a compendium of protest and ideal legislation than this
disappearance of a norm concerning which there no longer
was a controversy. Those parts of the Pharisaic platform
which still were challenged either officially by Temple author-
ities, or unofficially by the Sadducees in their private
practice, continued to be taught in the schools as Oral Law,
But where a rule had been accepted and was no longer sub-
ject to debate, the Pharisees left its perpetuation to practice
rather than to precept.
The sages were themselves aware that much had thus
disappeared out of the Oral Law. In their usual way, they
project these omissions into antiquity, and say that '"many
laws were forgotten during the period of mourning for
Moses,"’^^ and on other similar occasions.
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THE PHARISEES
Among the customs which emanated from the ritual of
washing hands before and after sacrifice, was that prescrib-
ing similar washing before and after each meal. No longer
aware of the significance attaching to the original Temple
custom, the sages were naturally at a loss to explain its
derivative in their own daily life. They supposed that
“King Solomon established the washing of the hands.”^®
This, of course, means nothing more than that they could
not recall the authority by whom the ablutions had been
introduced. But authentic traditions, preserved in rabbinic
literature, prove that the priests regarded the eating of
heave-offering {terumah) as a divine service. When, for
instance, R. Tarfon, who was a priest, was once absent from
the academy, he explained to R. Gamaliel II that he had
been engaged in “priesdy worship.” “You talk riddles,”
R. Gamaliel said to him. “Is there any ministry for the
priests, now that the Temple is in ruins?” “I was eating the
heave-offering,” R. Tarfon replied, “and we consider that
like the Temple service itself.”^* Holding the use of their
priestly food in this high regard, the priests naturally
transferred to it the ablutions which were required for the
actual sacrifice at the altar.®® They thus became accustomed
to wash their hands both before the meals and after them.
From the priests the custom passed to the more rigorously
observant laymen, who liked to believe that any table can
become like the table of the Lord.
Closely associated with the ablutions after the sacrifices
and the sacred meals, was the peculiar rule requiring similar
washing after contact with a holy scroll. Just as the Phari-
sees required the priest to wash away the holiness of the
sacrificial meat and the heave-offering before using his hands
for mundane affairs, so they washed their own hands after
THE ORAL LAW
279
touching a sacred book, to prevent the contamination of
the holy with the profane. The Sadducean priests who had
been compelled to accept the principle of hand-washing after
sacrifice, challenged the rule when applied to the scrolls.
The Mishna records the following discussion on the matter:
“The Sadducees said to the Pharisees, ‘We complain of you,
Pharisees, for you say that the Holy Writings defile the
hands; while the works of Homer do not defile the hands.’”
But R. Johanan ben Zakkai, acting as spokesman for the
Pharisees, pointed out that according to biblical Law “the
bones of an ass are pure, while the bones of Johanan the
High Priest are impure.” To this the Sadducees responded:
“The impurity of bones is an index to our reverence for them;
it is intended to prevent a man from using the bones of his
father and mother for spoons.” “If that is so,” R. Johanan
ben Zakkai said, “the Holy Writings are also declared im-
pure because of our reverence for them; while the books of
Homer, which we do not revere, are not impure.”^^
The Sadducees succeeded in establishing their practice
at the Temple, so that it became a fixed rule that “the
Scroll of the Sanctuary does not defile the hands.”®^ Outside
of the Temple, they had to yield to the Pharisaic interpreta-
tion of the Law. Perhaps the Pharisees were the more
determined to carry their point in this matter because they
wanted, through it, to show that the study of the Torah is
a means of approaching God, and that it was as important
as the sacrificial worship.
The origin of the Oral Law in the interpretations of the
plebeian scholars was still recognized in the early talmudic
sources, which term its provisions as “words of the scribes.”
But in their day, the scholar had ceased to be associated with
the tasks of an amanuensis, and the word safer was used
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THE PHARISEES
for him only in an applied sense. Yet so powerful had been
the influence of these early copyist-teachers on the develop-
ment of the Law, that the original term continued to be
used, both within and outside Pharisaic circles. The Gospel
writers speak continuously of the “scribes and the Pharisees”
as a single group, for the scribes were nothing more than
the scholars and philosophers of the Pharisaic sect.
XIV. REVERENCE FOR MAN*
The mordant hunger for equality with the patrician, which
drove the Pharisee to the dogmas of resurrection, angelology,
and determinism, also led to a legal controversy between him
and the Sadducees. Characteristically, the quarrel involved
not civil or property rights, but Temple usage. The Temple’s
foremost source of revenue was an annual tax of half a
shekel (about half a dollar), which all Jews, whether in
Palestine or in the diaspora, gladly paid. The Bible
(Ex. 30.1 IF.) demands this contribution only during a
census, but actually it was given year by year. The sum
asked was so small, and the desire for association with
the national worship so great, that Jews throughout the
world enthusiastically sent their half-shekels to the treasury
of the sanctuary. On the first of Adar, a month before
the beginning of the Jewish ecclesiastical year, “an-
nouncements were made concerning the shekalimy^ On
the Sabbath preceding this announcement, the portion
of the Torah dealing with the custom was read in all the
synagogues.^ The story told in the Book of Kings of Joash’s
reforms in the Temple supervision was appropriately chosen
as prophetic reading. Such fascination did the institution
have for the people that the special Sabbath of shekalim
is still observed by reading these scriptural citations, and is
further marked in many synagogues by the recitation of
additional prayers composed for the occasion. In ancient
times the funds collected were so large that they were more
than sufficient to cover the cost of the national worship,
* Cf. Supplement, pp. 708-716, 720-724.
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THE PHARISEES
and considerable sums were carried over in the treasury
from one year to another.® When the Temple was destroyed,
the Romans with their incomparable sense of business,
declined to abolish the tax: they merely appropriated it.
The plebeians had always been especially interested in
this fund because it symbolized the equality of all Israel
before God. Whatever other gifts the rich might give to
the sanctuary, they were not a farthing above the poorest in
the ‘‘heave-offering of the chamber” (as the treasury of
the shekalim came to be called). “The rich shall not give
more, and the poor shall not give less than half a shekel,
when they give the offering of the Lord, to make atonement
for your souls,” commands the Torah (Ex. 30.15). The
masses were consequently especially anxious that this fund
and no other should be used to pay for the daily sacrifices
in the Temple. The great plebeian document, which estab-
lished this tax as an annual contribution (Neh. 10.38 ff.),
specifically provides that it shall be used “for the service of
the house of our God, for the showbread, and for the contin-
ual meal-offering, and for the continual burnt-offering, of
the sabbaths, of the new moons, for the appointed seasons,
and for the holy things, and for the sin-offerings to make
atonement for Israel, and for all the work of the house of our
God” (Neh. 10.33). Purchased from the funds of this treas-
ury, the daily sacrifice became not only nominally but in
reality the public offering of the whole people to their God.
To the plebeian, who rarely could afford to give his own
sacrifice to the Temple, this was an important point, which
he continually stressed. The patricians however could not
appreciate his sensitiveness in the matter. Whether the
daily sacrifice was bought from the particular coins which
had been collected throughout the world or from some other
REVERENCE FOR MAN
283
funds, seemed to them a trivial question, unworthy of
discussion.
Following this line of reasoning, the patricians permitted
the public sacrifice to be contributed voluntarily by rich
individuals. The plebeians, and after them the Pharisees,
denied that a sacrifice made by a private person could
possibly be called a “public offering.”
The controversy continued for centuries until the Phari-
sees, coming into power about 76 B.C.E., finally carried
their principle into practice. The victory was so important
in their eyes that they established an annual half-holiday
to commemorate it.^
In another instance, however, the devotion of the Phari-
sees to the principle of human equality led them to a ju-
ridically indefensible position. The question involved was
the liability of an owner for damages committed by his
slave without his knowledge. The Sadducees held the
master responsible for his slave as he would be for his ox;
the Pharisees denied this and left the injured person without
redress.'
The Pharisaic rule would have worked obvious injustice
in any slave-holding community. If the master is freed
from responsibility for damage done by his slave, all motive
for exercising discipline over him with regard to such depre-
dations disappears. The slave, who has no personal respon-
sibility, is left free to ruin anyone against whom he may bear
a grudge. The patricians — who were owners of slaves —
could not possibly accept this Pharisaic doctrine, which
indeed could only have arisen among plebeians, for whom
the whole question was theoretical.
But just because the Pharisees were without interest in
the practical application of this rule, it afforded them an
284
THE PHARISEES
excellent opportunity for the expression of their abstract
principle. Ordinarily, they would have hesitated to sacrifice
definite social need to mere metaphysical notions. But since
they owned no slaves, they were free from the usual judicial
inhibitions, and could readily indulge their tendency to
make the slave’s personality equal with that of the free man.
The Sadducees are reported to have said to the Pharisees
in the discussion of this question: “If I am responsible for
damage done by my ox and my ass, although I have no obliga-
tion with regard to any ceremonial observances by them,
how much more must I be responsible for the damage done
by my men-servants or maid-servants, since I am obliged to
arrange for their observance of the ceremonial law.” To this
the Pharisees replied: “No, you may rightly make a master
responsible for damage done by his ox or his ass, since these
animals have no mind. But how can you make the master
responsible for damage done by the man-servant or maid-
servant, who have minds of their own ?”®
The argument shows plainly that the Pharisees based
their rule on the recognition of the moral responsibility of
sentient beings. The slave has a mind of his own; to make
the master answerable for him is a derogation of the prin-
ciple of human responsibility. Their respect for the dignity
of man as homo sapiens made it impossible for them to
countenance a law which made one man answerable for
another’s deeds. To compare the slave to an ox or an ass
was in itself a judicial insult: the one was human, the other
a chattel.
The Sadducees were unsympathetic to the principle of
human equality involved in the metaphysics of the Pharisees,
and at the same time were keenly aware of the social dangers
involved for their class in the adoption of the proposed law.
REVERENCE FOR MAN
285
Men of wealth, with large tracts of land exposed to depreda-
tion, they were indignant at a ruling which left them with-
out redress against an unruly slave of their neighbor.
The significance of the controversy becomes even clearer
in the light of a conflict which later arose within Pharisaism
itself. When, during Herod’s reign, Pharisaism became
practically coterminous with the Jewish people, its own
wealthier, rural faction found fault with another extremely
individualistic decision rendered by the dominant plebeian
group within the party. “If a man sends another to commit
murder, the agent is guilty,” held the plebeian Pharisees,
“but the principal is innocent.” Shammai, who was the
spokesman of the near-patricians in the party, said, “The
principal is guilty.”^ In this ruling, too, the plebeian view
is opposed to all principles of common-sense jurisprudence.
To free the accessory before the fact from all responsi-
bility for misdeeds which arise from his evil influence is to
invite crime. But the plebeians were so permeated with
their belief in the individual and the moral responsibility
of man, that they were blinded to the inevitable social
consequences of their decisions.
Opposed to the Pharisaic doctrine of the individual, the
patricians upheld the principle of extended personality. Like
the Jews of much more primitive days, who had identified
the master with the servant, these rural teachers considered
the slave or the agent “the hand” of his principal. This led
the rural wing of the Pharisees, the Shammai tes, to forbid
the employment of a pagan to work for a Jew on the Sab-
bath. If the Gentile labored as the agent of the Jew, it was
as though the Jew himself were violating the holy day’s
rest. They carried this principle to such extremes that they
forbade selling goods to a Gentile, or loading his animals,
286
THE PHARISEES
or lifting a burden on him, unless it was reasonably certain
that he could arrive at his destination before the Sabbath.
They would not send skins to be tanned, or clothes to be
washed, by Gentiles, unless it was clear that the work would
be completed by Friday.®
In the Temple, where the patrician priests were in full
control, the principle of individual responsibility was unrec-
ognized. If through error Temple property was used for
profane purposes, not only the agent but also the principal
was held responsible.® The later sages, codifying the Law
as they found it crystallized in precedent, note this as an
exception, which without knowledge of the social basis of
the conflict involved, they are unable satisfactorily to
explain.
Plebeian respect for man extended also to the criminal.
The consequent leniency of the Pharisaic teachers in punish-
ment became proverbial, and contrasted sharply with
Sadducean severity.^” In this humanitarianism, however,
the Pharisees also went to extremes. The limitations which
the plebeian faction among them put on evidence and pro-
cedure gradually tended to stultify the whole system of
criminal law. One of their leaders, Johanan ben Zakkai, as
a young judge rejected witnesses who disagreed in their
description of the stems of the figs growing on the tree under
which the crime was committed.^ When the Romans
deprived the Jews of criminal jurisdiction, the sages became
yet more extreme in their now purely theoretical decisions.
No longer apprehensive of any social evil growing out of
their judgments, they felt free to carry all their plebeian
principles to their logical and impractical conclusions. R.
Tarfon and R. Akiba, two of their great teachers in the
second century, said: “Had we been members of the San-
REVERENCE FOR MAN
287
hedrin when it had the power of capital punishment, no
man would ever have been executed by it.”^® A plebeian
sage of the following generation, R. Jose, would not condemn
a criminal to any punishment unless he had been specifically
warned by the witnesses that his act was forbidden.'®
R. Simeon ben Gamaliel II who was fully plebeian in spirit,
but yet took a judge’s view of the law, remarked of R. Tarfon
and R. Akiba’s boast, “They would indeed have multiplied
murders in Israel.”'^ But the willingness of the sages to
interfere with the judgment of man was a necessary corollary
of their firm reliance on the judgment of God. R. Akiba
was quite willing that a criminal should escape the penalties
imposed by the human courts, for he believed firmly that
the guilty would meet their fate at the hands of God. “If
he escapes your hand, he shall not escape Mine,” are the
words which the sage’s disciples attributed to God.'® It was
the duty of the court to punish those who were certainly
guilty, but every shadow of doubt should be resolved in
favor of the accused.
Leniency toward the criminal was further consonant with
the doctrine of non-resistance to evil, which at this time
became fundamental to plebeian thought. Among the
earlier Pharisees, the teaching of submission and resignedness
took the form of international pacifism. But as Pharisaism
became more philosophical and reflective, the principle of
non-resistance came to be applied also in private life. It
could not be otherwise among a group who held firmly to
the belief that all things are from God. The greater the
faith in Providence, the more complete the submissiveness
of the believer to all that came upon him.
When Hillel saw a dead body floating in the river he
remarked: “Because thou didst drown others wast thou
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THE PHARISEES
drowned; but in the end, they who drowned thee will yet
meet their fate.”’-® Following this principle, R. Joshua ben
Korha sharply rebuked Eleazar, the son of his colleague,
R. Simeon ben Yohai, when he accepted service in the Roman
gendarmery. “Vinegar, child of wine, how long wilt thou
hand over the people of God to the executioner?” he asked.
“I am removing the thistles from the vineyards,” the son
of R. Simeon replied. “Let the Owner of the vineyard
remove His own thistles,” was the impractical reply of the
saint, who could not brook violence even in punishment of
the wicked, i’’ When evil occurred, it was customary in
these circles to say, “This also is for the best.”’® If a cow
broke its leg, the peasant was taught to think, “For my
good was the beast injured.” R. Akiba, in whom the teach-
ings of the class found most eloquent expression, said: “The
verse, ‘Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart,
and with all thy soul and with all thy might’ means, thou
must be grateful to Him whatever be the measure He mete
out unto thee.” “A person must bless God for evil no less
than for good.”’®
There was nothing new in these maxims except the
formulation. The prologue to Job had implied them all.
No matter how great his suffering. Job would not open his
mouth to complain, “Nor ascribed aught unseemly to God”
(1.22). The ideal manner of meeting evil was to say as he
did, “The Lord gave, the Lord hath taken away; blessed
be the name of the Lord” (1.21).
Seen against this background, the teachings of early
Christianity become more significant and coherent. “Thy
wiU be done,” is the premise, from which it follows, by
plebeian logic, that “if any man sue thee at the law and take
REVERENCE FOR MAN
289
away thy coat, let him have thy cloak also. And whoever
shall compel thee to go a mile with him, go with him twain.”®®
The principle of non-violence was, however, more than a
logical corollary to natural plebeian doctrines. It was itself
admirably fitted to the situation of the trader and the artisan.
""The customer is always right,” is a maxim of modern shop-
keepers, which was in a way foreshadowed in the bazaars
of ancient Jerusalem. The merchant soon learns that when
abstract or even legal justice is on his side, it may often be
to his interest to forgo the advantage. The more complete
his patience, the more ready is he to speak softly; and the
less prone he is to anger, the greater will be his ultimate
reward. Having learned the lesson of patience in his shop,
the plebeian carried the habit with him into home, syn-
agogue, temple and court.
But why did not these city plebeians, without resorting
to rebellion, enact in their Oral Law some protest against
the exploitation of their class? Granted that their principles
forbade them to right wrong by direct action, why did they
exhaust their theoretical rebelliousness in theological, rather
than economic, doctrines? Would not the energy which
they used to foist on Judaism the doctrines of angels and
resurrection have been better used to demand, at least in
words, the reallocation of land according to Pentateuchal
principles of equality?
The difficulty lay in the restraints which their loyalty to
the Temple fastened on the urban plebeians. The traders
and workers might resent the arrogance and oppression of
the rich priests, but they could take no action against it,
by word or deed. The outstanding position of the Temple,
its complete monopoly of the sacrificial system, and the
290
THE PHARISEES
recurrent pilgrimages to it, had made Jerusalem a great city.
The plebeians lived on the valuable morsels which fell to
them from this great hierarchical table. They wept and
sobbed in persecution, and dreamed of future freedom, but
they durst not breathe a word of distrust or lift a finger of
rebellion lest they themselves perish in the ruin of their
exploiters.
Perhaps they did not become consciously aware of the
peril, but made their decisions by the inner intuitions which
so frequently dominate class movements. The plebeian in
Jerusalem probably could not say explicitly why he did not
demand of the priests immediate conformity with the biblical
prescriptions forbidding them to own land. But he knew
well that the major priests would sooner renounce the service
at the Temple than their landed estates; and he also knew
that these patricians supplied him with much of his custom
and trade. A thoroughgoing change of the Temple priest-
hood would weaken the hold of the institution itself on the
people, and would inevitably diminish the prestige of the
metropolis. The more the plebeian pondered over the
situation, the more completely convinced he must have
become that he had much to lose in breaking his chains.
But so long as the priests were not driven from the soil,
the utopian division of land on Pentateuchal principles was
impossible. How could each Israelite be given his ancestral
portion of the soil, when a goodly part of it was held by the
priests, who theoretically had no right to it at all?
Yet there are indications that some groups did strive for
the enforcement of the land laws. The claim of the lowland
farmers to descent from the tribe of Benjamin who had
originally possessed that country,*^ implies a recognition of
tribal rights even in the Second Commonwealth. About the
REVERENCE FOR MAN
291
year 100 B.C.E., an apocryphal code was composed having
at its core the reestablishment of the Jubilee year. Presum-
ably the author would not have thought of such a reform
had not the proposal been seriously made by some interested
groups. The Essenes and the sect of Damascus declined to
take part in the Temple sacrifice so long as it was controlled
by defiled and irreligious priests. But these movements
were confined to eccentrics. The main body of plebeians,
led by the scribes and Pharisees of the city, accepted the
situation without murmur, and awaited patiently the com-
ing of the Redeemer.
XV. THE PROPHETIC IDEAL OF
EQUALITY
The dogma of human equality to which the Pharisees
adhered had come to them, like many of their other teach-
ings and customs, from earlier plebeian sages of Jerusalem.
But while the controversy about equality was confined in
Pharisaism to a few esoteric issues, it had in earlier ages
pervaded the whole social and religious life. The urban
prophets of the First Commonwealth and their disciples in
the Exile, were not bound by the economic shackles which
prevented the Pharisees from giving full expression to their
hatred of oligarchy and aristocracy. At first timidly, but
with increasing boldness, these great teachers put forth the
concept of a sacred Commonwealth of economically, politi-
cally, and socially equal citizens.
The social teaching of the prophets is not, however, as is
popularly supposed, absolutely uniform. Only false prophets,
who have personal motives to serve, say the sages, speak in
full unison.^ The true prophets, while in accord on general
principles, differed in their detailed interpretation of them.
People who read the Scriptures cursorily may be persuaded
that they contain nothing but indictments of wealth and
power. Actually they contain whole books whose authors
were apparently unaware of any social struggle. This is
true primarily of works emanating from rural districts where
the primitive principle of status was unchallenged by either
rich or poor. Having inherited their place in society from
forgotten forbears, they took it for granted, and even in
292
THE PROPHETIC IDEAL OF EQ.UALITy
293
their hearts ventured not to utter complaints. They accepted
their yoke as part of the natural order of the universe — like
sickness and death.
Only in the large metropolitan center of Jerusalem and
under its influence^ among the plebeian shepherds of the
Judean desert land^ did the concept of individual freedom
develop. In the city^ a man’s status was fixed not by pre-
vious generations, but in part at least, by his own efforts and
good fortune. Working with his own hands and selling with
his own cunning, he attained a sense of independence, which
the peasant, bound to the soil like his ox, could never achieve.
To be subject to a master seemed to the city man the lowest
possible degradation. He might have little or much, but
what he had was his own.^
Those shepherds who brought their beasts for sale in the
market of Jerusalem were easily infected with this feeling
of freedom and individuality. Their primitive clan and
family organization was indeed essential so long as the
country lacked a stable government able to protect property
and repress violence. The constant peril from enemy and
marauder to which an individual was exposed, could be
warded off only by uncompromising clan solidarity. But
under the ordered government of the later kingdom, when
life and property were secure, and the goatherd on the hiUs
of Judea was as safe as the tradesman in Jerusalem, clan
and tribal organization insensibly melted away, and the
individual came into his own.
As soon as the individual became conscious of himself,
he also became conscious of discrimination against himself.
The sheep-tender knew well where the real power of the
state lay — in the hands of the landed patricians. The
centuries of struggle between him and them had ended in
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THE PHARISEES
their complete victory: Abel, “the keeper of sheep,” had
been slain by Cain, “the tiller of the ground.” A goodly
part of the early Scripture is a reflection of the bitterness
engendered by this sense of defeat and frustration.
The first of the great literary prophets, Amos and Hosea,
illustrate this contrast between the farmer’s ignorance of
any social conflict and the plebeian shepherd’s keen aware-
ness of it. From the very beginning of his message, Amos,
the shepherd-prophet, ruthlessly arraigns the men who “sell
the righteous for silver, and the needy for a pair of shoes.”
They pant after the dust of the earth on the head of the
poor and turn aside the way of the humble (2.6-7). They
“lay themselves down beside every altar upon clothes taken
in pledge” (ibid. 8). “For they know not to do right, saith
the Lord, who store up violence and robbery in their
palaces” (3.10).
The prophet noticed all this precisely because he was a
child, not of the soil, but of the sheepfolds. He hailed from
Tekoa, that stony land, which to this day is unable to
provide its inhabitants with their daily needs.® In his youth
he had earned his livelihood by dressing “sycamore trees”
(7.14); and he had grown up to look after sheep and oxen.
He had, indeed, become a naked, an owner of flocks, and in
his own circles must have been considered well-to-do. He
could afford to travel about the country, and to despise the
ordinary material rewards of ancient prophecy (7.12). But
his plebeian sympathies were aroused, and with them his
desert indignation at the luxuries and profligacies of the
landowners.
The behavior of the aristocratic women, no less than
that of their husbands, stung the prophet’s puritan soul.
THE PROPHETIC IDEAL OF EQ.UALITY
295
Addressing the crowds of pilgrims who had assembled
from their country places to worship at Beth-el, he de-
nounced them with indignation, not unmixed, perhaps, with
vindictiveness.
“Hear ye this word, ye kine of Bashan,
That are in the mountain of Samaria,
That oppress the poor, that crush the needy.
That say unto their lords; ‘Bring, that we may
feast!’ ”(4.1).
“For I know how manifold are your transgressions,
And how mighty are your sins;
Ye that afflict the just, that take a ransom.
And that turn aside the needy in the gate” (5.12).
No such bitter invective against social injustice comes to
us from Hosea, the peasant prophet of the fertile North.
He reserves his anger and indignation for the ritual sin of
Baal-worship, for the Ephraimite vice of drunkenness, and
for duplicity, the cardinal social sin in the eyes of the pro-
vincial. We can trace, however, a development in the mind
of this prophet as he grows out of his early village simplicity
into his later metropolitan sophistication. The small book
which he bequeathed to us consists of two separate parts so
different from each other both in style and content that
some writers have attributed them to different authors.'*
The first three chapters are largely autobiographical, telling
the story of the prophet’s tragic marriage, and containing
his first prophecies; the last eleven chapters deal with his
maturity when, coming into Samaria, he saw Israel as a
nation against the background of international life.
Early in life this prophet, an undistinguished member of
the YHWH following in the North, had married the
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THE PHARISEES
daughter of Diblaim, an adherent of the Baal cult. What
drew Hosea out of the obscurity of his life into the glare of
contemporary public life (and subsequent world renown)
was the behavior of his wife after their first child was born.®
Finding herself no longer fertile then, Gomer followed the
usual practice of her circle, resorting to the Baal temple for a
cure, and gave herself to fellow-worshipers in the obscure
sex ritual which her husband had always despised; for he,
a follower of YHWH, had a deep-seated respect for monog-
amy and chastity. He named the girl who was born there-
after, Lo-ruhamah, “the unloved,” and a later child Lo-
ammi, “not my people.”
His sufferings during his wife’s waywardness brought
Hosea into a keener understanding of Israel’s sin in
deserting God. The double injury he had suffered, as a man
of piety and as a husband, made him hate the Baal and its
worship with unmeasured vindictiveness. There was
nothing left for him in life save to give himself altogether
to the extermination of the miserable, humiliating super-
stition. But added to these emotional responses was his
intellectual development under the stress of pain. If he, a
man, was so wounded by Gomer’s desertion, how poignant
and immeasurable was God’s disappointment in His people
Israel, when they went astray ? Suddenly he felt for God not
merely reverence, awe, and fear — as he had been accustomed
since childhood — but a deep love and sympathy, as for
a great fellow-sufferer. He knew from the wretched despair
of his own human heart what the Almighty was suffering,
and the eloquence which this realization calls forth in the
peasant rings in our ears across the ages with undiminished
power. Passionate anger and, even more, passionate love;
jealous hatred which wishes to destroy, and enduring
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297
affection which seeks only to recall, play across his verses
in alternations of darkness and light.
“And I will not have compassion upon her children;
For they are the children of harlotry.
For their mother hath played the harlot,
She that conceived them hath done shamefully;
For she said; ‘I will go after my lovers.
That give me my bread and my water.
My wool and my flax, mine oil and my drink.’
Therefore, behold, I will hedge up thy way with thorns.
And I will make a wall against her.
That she shall not find her paths.
And she shall run after her lovers, but she shall not
overtake them.
And she shall seek them, but she shall not find them;
Then shall she say; ‘I will go and return to my first
husband;
For then was it better with me than now’ ”(2.6-9).
But forgetting a moment later this promise of hopeful
reunion, he reverts to his original anger, and attibutes to
God a fierce denunciation of Israel.
“And now will I uncover her shame in the sight of
her lovers,
And none shall deliver her out of My hand.
I win also cause all her mirth to cease.
Her feasts, her new moons, and her sabbaths.
And aU her appointed seasons.
And I will lay waste her vines and her fig-trees,
Whereof she hath said: ‘These are my hire
That my lovers have given me’ ” (ibid. 12—14).
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“And Ephraim is become like a silly dove, without
understanding;
They call unto Egypt, they go to Assyria” (7.11).
“Ephraim striveth after wind, and followeth after the
east wind;
All the day he multiplieth lies and desolation;
And they make a covenant with Assyria,
And oil is carried into Egypt” (12.2).
He realizes that the nation is corrupt at the top as well
as at the bottom, and he sees no hope for it.
“They make the king glad with their wickedness.
And the princes with their lies . . .
On the day of our king
The princes made him sick with the heat of wine . . .
They are all hot as an oven.
And devour their judges;
All their kings are fallen.
There is none among them that calleth unto Me”
(7.3 ff.).
Throughout these bitter words, we find nothing at all
resembling Amos’s call for justice and human equality.® It is
clear that even in the city, Hosea saw in wrong-doing
merely a formalistic deviation from the standards to which
he was accustomed; he had not yet come to see the evil of
exploitation of man by man. He speaks of the trader with
the provincial’s undisguised contempt (12.8), and, like
another rural prophet of a later age, finds it particularly
despicable that men should worship idols, “the work of
craftsmen” (13.2; 8.6).^ The implications of the phrase may
not be obvious to us, but can we imagine a smith or a
carpenter using it? Would he not be more likely to say, as
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301
the psalmist does, “the work of men’s hands?” (Ps. 115.4;
135.15; cf. also II Kings 19.18; 22.17; Isa. 37.19; contrast
Jer. 10.3; Isa. 40.19, 20; 41.7; 44.12). But Hosea makes no
effort to hide his contempt for the worker, any more than
did Ben Sira, five centuries later.® And feeling no respect
for the artisan, the prophet cannot envisage his life as a
perpetual struggle against oppression, as Amos did.
We must not associate this difference between Amos and
Hosea with the personal idiosyncracies or status of the
prophets. None of the inspired teachers whose works have
been preserved spoke from private bias. If Hosea was a
landowner, Amos, too, as we have seen, was probably
equally affluent. But the one had lived in an environment
where there was no social struggle, the other where it was
the most glaring fact.
How readily the literary prophets raised themselves out
of their class in the face of the social conflict becomes clear
when we turn to Isaiah, a leading aristocrat, who yet
became the foremost tribune of the people. Though he was
apparently far wealthier than Hosea, he entered whole-
heartedly into the struggle between rich and poor, relent-
lessly condemning avarice, greed, and oppression. For
aristocrat as he was, he lived in Jerusalem, and could see
the social conflict in all its bitter ferocity.
Isaiah beholds the Lord, enthroned in the Temple,
entering into judgment against the elders and princes of
His people, and defending the oppressed poor:
“It is ye who have eaten up the vineyard;
The spoil of the poor is in your houses.
What mean ye that ye crush My people.
And grind the face of the poor?” (Isa. 3.14 ff.).
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“Woe unto them that join house to house.
That lay field to field.
Till there be no room, and ye be made to dwell
Alone in the midst of the land!” (5.8).
He knows that all these injustices are performed with the
show of legality; but for that reason he protests all the more
vigorously against the iniquitous legislation;
“Woe unto them that decree unrighteous decrees.
And to the writers that write iniquity;
To turn aside the needy from judgment.
And to take away the right of the poor of My people.
That widows may be their spoil.
And that they may make the fatherless their prey!”
(10.1 ff.).
He hopes for the rise of a new king who will usher in a
new order, not only of peace with the world, but of equality
within the commonwealth;
“And there shall come forth a shoot out of the stock
of Jesse,
And a twig shall grow forth out of his roots. . . .
With righteousness shall he judge the poor.
And decide with equity for the humble of the land;
And he shall smite the land with the rod of his mouth
And with the breath of his lips shall he slay the
wicked” (ll.lff.).»
The case of Jeremiah demonstrates even more clearly
how necessary was the city environment to make the
prophet realize the meaning of the social struggle and
oppression. Jeremiah had spent his youth in his native
Anathoth, and only after he had become a prophet did he
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303
remove to Jerusalem. In his present book the first four
chapters belong to his early rural period; but beginning
with the fifth chapter — as is indicated in the first verse^
‘'Run to and fro in the streets of Jerusalem'’ — we have
addresses delivered in the capitald^^ Comparing the two
parts, we are amazed to find that the difference between
them is almost as great as that between Hosea and
Amos.
No sooner does the prophet begin to preach in the capital
than he realizes that the land is weighted down by heavier
sins than idolatry itself. He had come to Jerusalem for
encouragement in his effort to purge the land of idols; he
found that the “great ones” themselves were in need of
moral rehabilitation.
“For among My people are found wicked men;
They pry, as fowlers lie in wait;
They set a trap, they catch men.
As a cage is full of birds,
So are their houses full of deceit;
Therefore are they become great, and waxen rich;
They are waxen fat, they are become sleek;
Yea, they overpass in deeds of wickedness;
They plead not the cause, the cause of the fatherless.
That they might make it to prosper;
And the right of the needy do they not judge” (5.26 ff.).
“Therefore will I give their wives unto others.
And their fields to them that shall possess them;
For from the least even unto the greatest
Everyone is greedy for gain.
From the prophet even unto the priest
Everyone dealeth falsely” (8.10 flF.).
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“Thus saith the Lord;
Let not the wise man glory in his wisdom.
Neither let the mighty man glory in his might,
Let not the rich man glory in his riches;
But let him that glorieth, glory in this,
That he understandeth, and knoweth Me,
That I am the Lord who exercise mercy,
Justice, and righteousness, in the earth;
For in these things I delight,
Saith the Lord” (9.22 fF.).
When the king uses forced labor, the prophet cries out:
“Woe unto him that buildeth his house by un-
righteousness,
And his chambers by injustice;
That useth his neighbour’s service without wages.
And giveth him not his hire;
That saith: T will build me a wide house
And spacious chambers,’
And cutteth him out windows.
And it is ceiled with cedar, and painted with
vermilion” (22.13).
The word, re‘a, which Jeremiah uses for the humble
proletarian, implies much more than can be conveyed by
the English “neighbor,” as it has been translated. It means
friend, comrade, colleague. It is the word used in the verse,
“Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself” (Lev. 19.18).
The prophet who, when he arrived in Jerusalem, still
distinguished the “great” from the lowly, now calls the
meanest laborer the “comrade” of the King.
During the siege of Jerusalem, the nobility, in their fear,
had undertaken to carry out the law which required them
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305
to set their slaves free after six years of service. But ■when for
some reason Nebuchadnezzar temporarily moved away from
the city, the nobles immediately seized the freedmen and
forced them back into slavery. Jeremiah, indignant at the
double wickedness of oppression and fraud, thunders; “But
ye turned and profaned My name, and caused every man
his servant, and every man his handmaid, whom ye had let
go free at their pleasure, to return; and ye brought them
into subjection, to be unto you for servants and handmaids.
Therefore, thus saith the Lord: Ye have not hearkened unto
Me, to proclaim liberty, every man to his brother, and
every man to his neighbour; behold, I proclaim for you a
liberty, saith the Lord, unto the sword, unto the pestilence,
and unto the famine” (34.16).
Here even the slave is called “brother” and “neighbor”
to his master. Jeremiah has altogether outgrown the
concept of fixed status for pigeon-holed human beings; all
men are the equal children of God. This thought could not
have come to him, inspired prophet though he was, in the
peaceful fields of Anathoth. He had to see the raging fires
of class warfare in Jerusalem before he realized the nature and
the extent of the evils practiced on the weak by the strong.
The development of Jeremiah’s mind through his stay at
the capital casts light on another prophet, who lived almost
a century before him, Micah of Mareshah. Like Jeremiah,
Micah was a native of a small village who came to Jerusalem
as a mature man. Only the first three out of the seven
chapters of his book can with certainty be ascribed to him.
But, as in Jeremiah, the first prophecy (contained in
chapter 1) deals exclusively with the sin of idolatry, and
the later ones (in chapters 2 and 3) are devoted with the
same completeness to social justice. The example of
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Jeremiah makes it altogether probable that the reason for
this difference is that the first prophecy was delivered
before, and the following two after, Micah came to
Jerusalem.
The difference between rural blindness and urban sensi-
tiveness to the social struggle is further illustrated by the
contrast between two contemporaries of Jeremiah, Nahum
the Elkoshite and Habakkuk. Nahum was definitely a
provincial. Although Elkosh has not been positively iden-
tified, all historians agree in seeking it in the hinterland, at
a distance from Jerusalem. This presumption of Nahum’s
country origin is confirmed by the rural imagery which he
uses, as well as by the content of his message. His pictures
are drawn from the Bashan, the Carmel, and the flower of
Lebanon (1.4), from the overflowing stream (1.8), from the
fig trees with first-ripe figs (3.12), from the canker-worm
about to burst from its chrysalis (3.16), and the locusts and
grasshoppers “which camp in the walls in the cold day, but
when the sun ariseth they flee away, and their place is not
known where they are” (3.17).
His conception of God is simple, primitive, unsophisti-
cated, countrified. “The Lord is a jealous and avenging
God, the Lord avengeth and is full of wrath; the Lord
taketh vengeance on His adversaries, and He reserveth
wrath for His enemies. The Lord is long-suffering, and
great in power, and will by no means clear the guilty; the
Lord, in the whirlwind and in the storm is His way, and the
clouds are the dust of His feet” (1.2 ff.).
These words, it must be kept in mind, were spoken not
in the infancy of the prophetic movement, about the ninth
century B.C.E., but in the age of Jeremiah, when it had
reached its full maturity and had definitely rejected the
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307
doctrine of divine vengeance with other anthropomorphisms.
Neither Jeremiah nor Zephaniah ever speak of God as
taking revenge on His enemies or as being jealous in any
human sense. The concepts are even further from
Habakkukj who, unlike his three contemporaries, was
altogether alien to the country, having spent his childhood
as well as his manhood in the metropolis.
Nahum’s country origin explains and exculpates the
brutality which he displays toward the enemies whom his
imagination already sees vanquished and destroyed. He
positively enjoys the vision of Nineveh suffering the
humiliation and pain which she had frequently inflicted on
others. With a lack of delicacy which would have astonished
the better bred urban writers and speakers, he compares
the demolished city to a princess taken into captivity.
“Behold, I am against thee, saith the Lord of hosts, and I
will uncover thy skirts upon thy face, and I will show the
nations thy nakedness, and the kingdoms thy shame. And
I will cast detestable things upon thee, and make thee
vile” (3.5 ff.). So fascinated is he by this horrible picture,
that he reverts to it again and again. “The gates of the
rivers are opened, and the palace is dissolved. And the
queen is uncovered, she is carried away, and her hand-
maidens moan as with the voice of doves, tabering on their
breasts” (2.7 f.). Neither his mind nor his pen recoils from
these visions; he can even look upon the cruel death of
infants without terrifying horror: “Yet she was carried
away,” he says of Ethiopia, “she went into captivity; her
young children were also dashed in pieces at the head of all
the streets. And they cast lots for her honourable men, and
all her great men were bound in chains. Thou also shalt be
drunken, thou shalt swoon” (3.10).
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Predictions of evil are of course common among the
prophets; but only among those of country origin do we
find the enumeration of such horrible detailsd^
A village prophet, Nahum characteristically sees in
Assyria a hated and cruel foe, but not an imperialistic
oppressor. He denounces her unsparingly, and predicts
destruction for her; but in all his vehement words, not a
syllable escapes him to reproach her with tyrannical rule
of her subjects. For the prophet is obviously too accustomed
to exploitation of the weak by the strong for him to mention
that as one of the charges in his indictment. Like Hosea,
he takes the arrogance of the great for granted together
with the oppression of the lowly. Assyria’s treatment of
her subject nations arouses in him as little comment as
does the neighboring farmer’s treatment of his wives,
slaves, employees, and the smaller peasants. Since he felt
no indignation against the powerful at home, he could
not summon any anger for the same sins committed by
the foreigner. He is conscious of deep hostility for
the Mesopotamian Empire, but it is only because she
is the enemy of God (1.11). The sins of which he finds
her guilty are those which provoke the peasant in any
large city: deceit, luxury, unchastity and concern with
commerce.
‘"Woe to the bloody city! [he cries]
It is full of lies and rapine” (3.1).
“Because of the multitude of the harlotries of the well-
favoured harlot.
The mistress of witchcraft.
That selleth nations through her harlotries,
And families through her witchcrafts” (3.4).
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309
‘'Thou hast multiplied thy merchants above the stars
of heaven ;
[They shall be as] the canker-worm that spreadeth
itself, and flieth away'’ (3.16).
Habakkuk was as urban as Nahum was rural. The
rabbinic sages — who in such matters are trustworthy
interpreters of the stylistic nuances of Scripture — infer this
from the silence of the Bible about his place of birth.
“Whenever the name of a prophet's city is omitted, it may
be presumed to have been Jerusalem,"^^ they remark. We
may further take it that the omission of his father's name
points to plebeian origin. These surmises are fully corrobo-
rated by his style, which lacks completely the richness and
earthiness characteristic of the provincial writers. Whereas
Nahum's messengers go up on the high hills to make their
announcements (2.1), Habakkuk takes his position on the
metropolitan watch tower (2.1). He hears the stone crying
from the well and the beam answering it out of the
timber (2.11).
He is amazed at the ruler
, that buildeth a town with blood.
And estabiisheth a city by iniquity" (2.12).
In his sophisticated environment, seduction has become a
fine art, and there are those who give their neighbor to
drink, “that puttest thy venom thereto .... that thou
mayest look on their nakedness" (2.15). He is chagrined at
the evil suffered by the land, but mentions as correlative
with it that done “to the city and to all that dwell therein"
(2.17). There are no canker-worms or grasshoppers^ nor
streams nor forests in his imagery.
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In the crowded lanes of Jerusalem, men take on for him
the appearance of “the fishes of the sea, and the creeping
things, that have no ruler over them” (1.14). But his very
description shows how foreign he is to the angler’s
occupation !
“They take up all of them with the angle.
They catch them in their net.
And gather them in their drag;
Therefore, they rejoice and exult” (1.15).
It would indeed be a strange stream where fishing was so
easy a task.^^
Theologically, Habakkuk is as far in advance of his con-
temporaries, Jeremiah and Zephaniah, as Nahum is behind
them. Not alone is his God without jealousy or vengeance,
but “too pure of eyes to behold evil.” He does not go forth
into battle; on the contrary, “The Lord is in His holy
Temple,” yet, “Let all the earth keep silence before Him”
(2.20). It is in urban sophistication, rather than in rural
nai'vet^, that we must seek the origin of such an advanced
conception of God.
Habakkuk is as fascinated by the social conflict as Isaiah
himself. In his vision, the alien oppressor takes on the
features and the form of the neighboring magnate. The
struggle between the weak nations and the powerful empire
corresponds exactly to that between the oppressed plebeian
and the mighty patrician. The Chaldean, rising in the
distance, will soon overrun Judea. As the prophet envisages
this prospect, he asks himself concerning them, as he has
asked himself a thousand times concerning exploiters nearer
home, “By what right.?”
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311
So completely does he identify oppression in his native
community with the tyranny of the stranger that we who
live 2600 years later cannot altogether follow him, being
uncertain in some passages of which tyrant he is speaking:
“How long, O Lord, shall I cry
And Thou wilt not hear?
I cry out to Thee of violence.
And Thou wilt not save.
Why dost Thou show me iniquity
And beholdest mischief?
And why are spoiling and violence before me?” (1.2-3).
“Thou that art of eyes too pure to behold evil,
And canst not look on mischief.
Wherefore lookest Thou, when they deal treacherously.
And boldest Thy peace, when the wicked swalloweth up
The man that is more righteous than he?” (1.13).
The fourth prophet of this period, Zephaniah, was, like
Isaiah, a child of aristocracy, who had heeded the prophetic
call to identify himself with the plebeians. His noble birth
is attested by the singularly long genealogy given for him,
tracing his lineage back four generations, to his great-
great-grandfather, who bore the name of Hezekiah. The
extraordinary mention of so distant a forbear leads to the
suggestion that this particular Hezekiah may have been the
king of that name. But whether Zephaniah was of the
royal family or not, he was certainly a patrician. Following
the tradition of true prophecy, he had identified himself
with the masses of the people. He foresees a day of the
Lord, when God will bring visitation on all the nobles and
the sons of the King (1.8). With them will fall the whole
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patrician class who in his day, as in Isaiah’s before him,
and in those of the Hellenists and the Maccabees centuries
later, said: “The Lord will not do good, neither will He do
evil” (1.12). Lest we have any doubt of the social status of
these ancient disclaimers of Providence, Zephaniah con-
tinues: “Therefore their wealth shall become a booty and
their houses a desolation; yea, they shall build houses and
not inhabit them, and they shall plant vineyards, but shall
not drink the wine thereof” (1.13).
Living in Jerusalem, he sees the social conflict in all its
horror.
“Woe to her that is filthy and polluted.
To the oppressing city!
She hearkened not to the voice.
She received not correction;
She trusted not in the Lord,
She drew not near to her God.
Her princes in the midst of her are roaring lions;
Her judges are wolves of the desert.
They leave not a bone for the morrow” (3.1 ff.).
His hope is in the meek and the humble. “Seek ye the
Lord, all ye humble of the earth, that have executed His
ordinance; seek righteousness, seek humility. It may be that
ye shall be hid in the day of the Lord’s anger” (2.3).
The Book of Ezekiel, which we must now consider,
consists of two elements: an original nucleus and a later
revision or enlargement.^® The weight of evidence favors the
theory that both parts are the work of the same writer;
and it is on that postulate that the following analysis
proceeds.
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313
The argument would not, however, be materially altered
were the contrary hypothesis, of a later editor or reviser,
to be accepted. For the discussion is based primarily on
parts of the book which are almost universally attributed
to the prophet himself.
The personality and character of Ezekiel, as reconstructed
through a sociological study of the book which bears his
name, are both fascinating and transparent. A man of
remarkable histrionic powers, he was, like many actors on
less sublime stages, most self-revealing when he believed
himself completely effaced and concealed. Behind the
dramatics of faintings and attacks of dumbness, of pro-
longed inertness and visionary flights, which have deluded
even some modern commentators into declaring him a
psychopath or a clairvoyant, we discover in the ancient
prophet, a man of singularly clear vision, carefully analyzed
ideas, sober rationality, and rare moral, artistic, and intel-
lectual gifts. He was an inspired genius, whose moving
eloquence, vivid imagination, superb command of words,
and almost incredible self-control, combined with his
impressionable and highly retentive memory, keen eye for
detail, uncanny ability to assimilate new ideas, and mathe-
matical precision and power of schematic formulation,
inevitably made him the leader of his generation. Like the
earlier prophets, Ezekiel was uncompromisingly devoted to
his ideals, stern and unyielding in his sense of justice, and
fierce in his loyalty to the God and the traditions of his
people. But when, after he had remained silent and motion-
less for days and even weeks, he broke forth into renewed
prophetic utterance, the music of his voice and his language
tore the hearts even of those who were utterly opposed to
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him (33.31 ff.). His literary and oratorical tact in sug-
gesting, obliquely yet unmistakably, situations which he
could not explicitly mention, mark him as a statesman as
well as an orator. Developing out of his youthful groping
into intellectual maturity, he courageously rejected some of
the ideas he had previously defended; created the most
original and complete theology the people of Israel had yet
seen; and brought the ideals which had been inchoate in
the works of half a dozen plebeian prophets into a climax
of masterful formulation.
The prophet who was to attain this influence and immor-
tality, was born about the year 615 B.C.E.,^® shortly after
the reformation of Josiah, in a small Palestinian hamlet
on one of the large estates belonging to his father, Buzi,
who was apparently a wealthy priest associated with the
Temple in Jerusalem. There was little in Ezekiel’s child-
hood surroundings to give promise of future distinction or
fame. In the natural course of events, it could only be
expected that the boy would inherit some of his father’s
lands, and take his place at the great metropolitan sanctu-
ary. But a series of national catastrophes tore the young
lad, together with thousands of others, out of the fate
which seemed to await them, and as far as Ezekiel was
concerned made him the center of the exiled Jewish com-
munity. Yet the influence of his provincial background is
apparent in all of Ezekiel’s earlier prophecies; and in some
phases even of his maturer thought and activity. It was
his native village which supplied Ezekiel with his distinc-
tively rural imagery — the picture of Babylonia as a great
eagle, which carries off the top of the cedar (17.3 ff.) ; of
Egypt as a tall tree in the forest of the Lebanon (31.3 ff.);
of Judah as a lioness, the mother of two whelps, Jeconiah
THE PROPHETIC IDEAL OF EQUALITY
315
and Zedekiah (19.2 fF.) ; or as a vine planted by many
waters (19.10 flF.); or, finally deprived of both nobility and
craftsmen through the exile of 597 B.C.E., as a vine branch
of which both ends have been burned, and the middle too
is singed (15.4 if.). It was thence, too, that Ezekiel derived
his peculiarly direct, almost coarse, diction and metaphor,
surpassing anything to be found even in Hosea and
Jeremiah. Both of those older, provincial prophets had
described Israel as the faithless bride of God. But neither of
them had approached the ferocity or unbridled freedom
with which Ezekiel denounced what he calls his nation’s
adultery. He sees Israel as a new-born foundling, aban-
doned in the desert, wallowing in filth, naked, exposed, and
ready to perish. God passed by her and took pity on her
distress, saved her and took her into His home.
“Thyi® navel was uncut.
Neither wast thou washed in water,
Thou wast not rubbed with salt,
Nor put in swaddling clothes —
No eye pitied thee.
To have compassion upon thee.
But thou wast cast into the open field
In the day when thou wast born.
When I passed by thee.
And saw thee wallowing in thy blood.
And I said unto thee, out of thy blood shalt thou live.
Grow like a blossom.
Thou didst grow and become great.
Thou earnest unto maturity;
Thy breasts were fashioned
And thy hair was grown” (16.4 ff.l.
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Ezekiel’s literary power is obvious even through the
translation, which cannot, however, begin to do justice to
the original. But we cannot imagine any of the metro-
politan prophets, Isaiah, Zephaniah, or Habakkuk, using
such language even in their most passionate moments.
Ezekiel, however, proceeds, with growing boldness:
“But thou didst trust in thy beauty, and play the harlot
because of thy renown, and didst pour out thy harlotries
on everyone that passed by. . . . thou hast built unto thee
an eminent place, and hast made thee a lofty place in
every street .... and hast made thy beauty an abomination,
and opened thy feet to every one that passed by, and
multiplied harlotries” (16.15 ff.).
Not satisfied with this horrifying address, Ezekiel returns
to the theme again in chapter 23, and again gives details
of Judah’s lust and sin in words which would have fallen
like blasphemy on the ears of the polished plebeians of
Jerusalem.^*
The same rural coarseness reappears in the repellent
symbolism of chapter 4, verse 10, where Ezekiel describes
himself as commanded by God to limit his food and drink
as a symbol for the sufferings of the siege, and then con-
tinues: “And thou shalt eat it as barley cakes, and
thou shalt bake it in their sight with dung that cometh
out of man .... Then said I : ‘Ah Lord God ! behold , my
soul hath not been polluted; for from my youth up even
till now have I not eaten of that which dieth of itself, or is
torn of beasts; neither came there abhorred flesh into my
mouth.’ Then He said unto me: ‘See, I have given thee cow’s
dung for man’s dung, and thou shalt prepare thy bread
thereon.’
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317
Like other provincials, Ezekiel could be both passionately
harsh and passionately tender. The punishments he metes
out to the sinful shock us by their terror; yet the same
prophet hears God speak to him of his wife as “the delight
of thine eyes” (24.16). Some commentators have found
difficulty in understanding how a man who so serenely and
unperturbedly foretells the gravest human misfortunes,
could be so humanly affectionate in his family relations.
But that was part of the rural, Palestinian psychology. It
was no more strange that Ezekiel, fierce to his hearers,
should think tenderly of his wife, than that R. Eliezer, who
frightened all who came near him, should be a gentle dove
to his little niece.
It is not merely, however, Ezekiel’s style, but also his
mode of thought, which betrays his rural origin. Like
Jeremiah*^ he felt a special tenderness for the northern
kingdom of Israel. Living in country hamlets, in a region
which was claimed by both north and south, these prophets
could not develop the local patriotism which made others
exclusively concerned with the fate of Judah and altogether
neglectful of the older, and larger, land of Ephraim. No
redemption which failed to provide for the Ten Tribes was
acceptable to Ezekiel.^® But more than that; he implicitly
rejects the primacy of Jerusalem. The terms he uses of the
Judaite capital could hardly come from one who believedi
in her sanctity. “Thine origin,” he cries to the great metrop-
olis, was “of the Canaanite; the Amorite was thy father,
and thy mother was a Hittite” (16.3). He thinks with
placid equanimity of the horrors of the siege which
Jerusalem must undergo (4.1 ff.); and in a terrifying vision
sees the angel about to destroy the men of the metropolis.
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beginning with the Temple itself (9.6 IF.). In fact, it is
clear that in his early days, Ezekiel did not accept the
doctrine of the centralization of worship. That is why he
never upbraids the people for building local altars and
provincial houses of worship. Indeed, so consistently does
he avoid the subject that some writers have maintained
that he could not have known the Book of Deuteronomy
and that therefore that work must be exilic or even later.
The fact, however, is that Ezekiel’s trend of mind arose not
from ignorance of the Deuteronomic Law, but from his
rural upbringing.
An incident which left a deep scar on Ezekiel’s sensitive,
religious spirit, converted this indifference to the Temple
and Jerusalem into frank and bitter hostility. It seems
probable that soon after the year 604 B.C.E., when through
the battle of Charchemish, Judah passed from the suzer-
ainty of Egypt to that of Babylonia, Buzi took Ezekiel,
then perhaps eleven or twelve years old, to the Temple in
Jerusalem.^® We may imagine with what excitement the
future prophet looked forward to the sight of the sanctu-
ary; how when he arrived at the Temple his eyes feasted
on every detail of its structure and its ritual; how carefully
he watched the ministration in which his father parti-
cipated; and with what joy he imagined himself taking his
place in the holy courts and at the altar. No wonder that
having made a few such pilgrimages in his youth, he could
ultimately draw a new plan of building and a new program
of worship from memory. But alas it was not only the
worship of God that he was to see and that was ever after
to haunt his sensitive imagination. As his father led him
through the Temple courts, he noticed within the gates of
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319
the structure, hidden from the sight of the crowds of people,
the restored image of Astarte, the Mesopotamian love-
goddess which Manasseh had erected many decades earlier,
but which Josiah had destroyed.^ Amazed at this appari-
tion, he followed his father from room to room, discovering
as he went continually more incredible symbols of idolatry.
Here he found walls covered with images which in his
haste he could not clearly identify, but which seemed to
portray a number of animal forms, with a crowd of priests
offering incense to them; there he discovered a group of
women observing the Babylonian ritual of bewailing the
god Tammuz; and finally, he arrived in a chamber where
about twenty-five men stood with their backs to the Sacred
Place, the Innermost Shrine, Israel’s Holy of Holies, where
God made His Presence manifest over the ancient Ark of
the Tablets of Stone. They were looking to the east, in the
direction of the Temple’s main gate, worshiping the Sun,
as it rose higher in the heavens (8.16 ff.).”
If his mother had been insulted before his eyes, Ezekiel
could not have been more outraged. Little did his father
realize what the experience meant to the child. He had
been brought up to fear and love the God of Israel, and to
consider defection from Him the gravest of sins. And here,
in the very seat of His worship, in the House which was
dedicated to Him, in dark, hidden chambers, Israel, the
bride of God, was playing the harlot! Decades later, as a
prophet in Babylonia, he reconstructed the scene, as vividly
as though he were passing through it once again. He could
identify the very places of these nefarious crimes, he could
see the faces of the transgressing priests, he heard once
again the voice of God calling for their destruction.
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The truth was, of course, that Jehoiakim had introduced
this peculiar, foreign ritual not willingly, but under com-
pulsion. Like Ahaz and Manasseh before him, he had to
submit to the worship of his suzerain. When he became
the vassal of Nebuchadnezzar, it was inevitable that the
Babylonian gods should be worshiped in his temple.^®
Fearful of the opposition of the prophetic party, which
had become much stronger since the Reformation of Josiah,
he had arranged, doubtless with the consent of the
Babylonians, to have the service performed in secret.
Even Jeremiah, ever watchful for any signs of apostasy,
and a stern critic of the government, knew nothing of these
proceedings. Had he had the slightest inkling of them, he
would certainly have excoriated the Temple, its priests, and
the rulers, even more harshly and ruthlessly than he did;
and he would certainly have denounced explicitly and
unequivocally the conspiracy of silence through which the
forbidden ceremonies were concealed from the public.
Not even the fear of the oppressor could justify foreign
worship in the mind of the prophet. He was opposed to
rebellion to save tribute, but he favored martyrdom for
the sake of God. Knowing nothing, however, of this secret
worship, Jeremiah makes no mention of it. The priests,
who joined the king in arranging the ritual, were apparently
satisfied that there was no alternative. They reconciled
themselves to the inevitable, and calmed their conscience
with the thought that after all the idolatrous forms were
carried on without public knowledge, and therefore without
effect on the people’s religion. How could Buzi, who doubt-
less shared this opportunistic view, realize that Ezekiel,
who walked by his side, could not accept it, and that his
heart was breaking at what he saw. Too young to realize
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321
the true reason for the concealment, he thought the priests
were trying to hide their nefarious conduct not from the
people, but from God. Their wickedness was thus not only
wanton, but insulting. In acts, if not in words, they were
saying, “The Lord seeth us not, the Lord hath forsaken
the land” (8.12). The precocious boy became convinced
that the sanctuary had no future; it was doomed to
destruction. No husband, however merciful he might be,
would permit his house to be transformed into a brothel.
Then and there, we may believe, Ezekiel’s fate was
decided. He could never be a priest in this Temple, he
would devote his life to exposing its nefarious iniquities.
He could not be a minister at God’s altar; he would be a
prophet in His true service. His adolescent religiosity
became a lifetime passion; a youthful idealism which
nothing could transform into middle-aged opportunism.
Two other incidents of his early life probably left a
lasting impression on Ezekiel’s mind: his visits to Tyre and
Egypt.^® His father’s wealth which enabled Ezekiel to
become acquainted with such luxuries as costly jewels,
imported linens, and fine silks, also provided him with the
means of travel. An inland, Palestinian boy, he was over-
whelmed by the sight of the Tyrian harbor and the
Egyptian Nile. The huge, sea-going ships which lay at
anchor, with their tall masts pointing heavenwards, and
their vast, dazzlingly white sails spread out to the sun,
seemed to him a personification of the island city, situated
in the “heart of the sea,” and enmeshing the ends of the
earth in the web of its commerce. He envied and admired
her; but with characteristic provincial suspicion of all
traders,*® he also feared her. When he thought of her as a
person, instead of a ship, she took the form of the only
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independent women he heard about — and was warned
against — in his native hamlet; the women hucksters, whom
the priests were forbidden to marry, who were accused of
ostensibly selling goods and really offering their bodies.
Harlotry and traffic were synonymous to him. When he
came to Egypt, he saw that country, too, personified in its
fierce crocodiles, which with their terrifying jaws and their
elongated bodies, threatening peril to anyone approaching
them, move so slowly that they succeeded only in befouling
the waters.
“Thou didst liken thyself unto a young lion of the nations;
Whereas thou art as a dragon in the seas;
And thou didst gush forth, with thy rivers.
And didst trouble the waters with thy feet.
And foul their rivers” (32.2 ff.).
The provincial mind, which reacted so impressionably to
the sights of foreign lands, revealed itself also in the early
theology of the prophet. While his conception of God was
superior to that of the idolatrous peasants among whom he
lived, it was definitely anthropomorphic. He paints bold
word images of the Divine Being, which must have worried
some of his purist hearers, no less than the similar descrip-
tions by the saintly R. Pappias worried R. Akiba in the
second century C.E.®^ In his opening theophany, Ezekiel
reveals this characteristic of his thought. He sees the skies
open above him, and beholds the appearance, as it were,
of a man, “with brightness round about him, like the
sparkle of a flame, from the appearance of his loins upward;
and from the appearance of his loins downward it was
like the appearance of the bow which is in the cloud in
the day of the rain : such was the appearance of the likeness
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323
of the glory of the Lord. And when I saw it, I fell upon
my face, and I heard a voice of one that spoke. Con-
tinuing in the same vein, he reports, “And He said unto
me: ‘Son of man, stand upon thy feet, and I will speak
with thee.’ And the spirit entered into me, and He spoke
unto me, and set me upon my feet, .... ‘Open thy mouth
and eat that which I give unto thee.’ And when I looked,
behold, a hand was put forth unto me! and, lo, a roll of a
book was therein; and He spread it before me, and it was
written within and without; and there were written therein
lamentations, and moaning, and woe” (1.5-2.10).
In chapter 8, he describes a similar vision of God. “And
it came to pass in the sixth year, in the sixth month, in
the fifth day of the month, as I sat in my house, and the
elders of Judah sat before me, that the hand of the Lord
God fell there upon me. Then I beheld, and lo, the appear-
ance, as it were, of a man,®^ from the appearance of his loins
and downward, fire; and from his loins and upward, as the
appearance of brightness, as the colour of electrum. And
the form of a hand was put forth and I was taken by a
lock of my head; and a spirit .... brought me in the vision
of God to Jerusalem.”
Those whom these anthropomorphisms shock would do
well to read some of the mystical works of the seventh
century C.E., the Book of Palaces, and the Measurement of
the Height , where they will find, more than twelve centuries
after Ezekiel, the same conception of God restated, even
more boldly and in greater detail. Indeed when Maimonides
declared that those who held anthropomorphic conceptions
of God were heretics, R. Abraham ben David of Posqui^res
remarked in a gloss, “Why did he call such a person heretic,
when many who were his betters and superiors followed
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this thought!”*® For the idea of God as a spiritual, non-
material being did not at once permeate all the people
of Judah. The metropolitan prophets grasped it; those,
however, who were reared in the villages, loved God and
knew Him, but the idea of a Great Abstraction was beyond
them.
No less significant is the fact that until the end of his
life Ezekiel continued to believe, with the simple pro-
vincials, that all human thoughts, good and evil, emanate
from God. This is the more astonishing because in other
respects, his conception of moral responsibility and the
individual, in its ultimate form, was more advanced than
that of any predecessor. But he had not, like Jeremiah,
had the advantage of residence in Jerusalem; he had never
grappled with the problem of urban hypocrisy;*^ he had
never discovered the difference between rural directness and
metropolitan disingenuousness; he knew nothing of
Jeremiah’s conception of God as probing the reins and the
heart” (Jer. 11.20; 17.10); and so he never understood the
meaning of intention in human activity. In one of the latest
passages of his book, he still speaks of the false prophets
as being lured to their sin by God Himself! "And when the
prophet is enticed and speaketh a word, I the Lord have
enticed that prophet^ and I will stretch out My hand upon
him, and will destroy him from the midst of My people
Israel” (14.9).
His rural mentality is evident also in his ethics. In his
early addresses he shares the normal provincial prophet’s
unawareness of any social conflict. His denunciations are
confined to the sin of idol-worship; they never reach the
problems of human relationship. The issues which concern
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325
him on the river Chebar are in no wise different from those
of Jerusalem. He sees the Judaites as a single nation; and
considers it altogether appropriate to inveigh in chapter
after chapter against the transgressions which are being
committed at a distance of four months’ journey, on Mount
Moriah. His utter indifference to the moral problems of his
hearers has led Professor C. C. Torrey, one of the most
brilliant and ingenious modern commentators on his book,
to declare the whole work pseudepigraphic. But indeed it
was not so. Ezekiel, the rural prophet, knew but one
manner of loyalty to YHWH, being devoted to His sole
worship; he knew but one sin, the worship of idols. Nothing
else mattered.
With such an ideology, he naturally could not think of
the Judaites as individuals, with separate moral problems,
and subject to separate divine judgments. He had not yet
arrived at the principle of the moral responsibility of the
individual, which was to be his supreme contribution to
world thought. The whole people sins as a unit, and is
punished as a unit.
Just when Ezekiel underwent the transformation which
made him “the watchman of the House of Israel,” warning
each person of his wrongdoing, and keenly conscious of
individual responsibility, we cannot tell. Several influences,
doubtless, cooperated in remaking his spiritual outlook.
The first was almost certainly his advance into middle age.
In his younger days, he was satisfied to pour out the feelings
of his heart in song, without asking himself whether his
words were achieving their desired effect. It did not occur
to him that the crowds who gathered to listen to him
remained unaffected by his ideas. He was altogether
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unconscious of the fact that his power lay not in persuasive
argument, but in the magnetic quality of his voice, his
speech, and his histrionics. He saw people weep, and he
thought that they were converted; he heard their applause,
and fancied that they were convinced. Only as decades
passed, and he could detect no perceptible change in their
manner of life, did the truth dawn upon him. “And as for
thee, son of man, the children of thy people that talk of thee
by the walls and in the doors of the houses, and speak one
to another, every one to his brother, saying: ‘Come, I pray
you, and hear what is the word that cometh forth from the
Lord; and come unto thee as the people cometh, and sit
before thee as My people, and hear thy words, hut do them
not — for with their mouth they show much love, but their
heart goeth after their covetousness; and lo, thou art unto
them as a love song of one that hath a pleasant voice, and
can play well on an instrument; so they hear thy wordsj
but they do them not — when this cometh to pass — behold,
it cometh — then shall they know that a prophet hath
been among them” (33.30 IF.).
This charge of futility against his earlier life was not
altogether justified; it was simply a reaction from his
earlier optimism. The fact that people were not transformed
by his words, did not mean that he was speaking in a
vacuum. He had helped to prevent their assimilation into
the Babylonian environment, and had thus saved them
from the fate which overtook the Ten Tribes who were
exiled to Media. Speaking as a member of Judah’s eccle-
siastic, land-owning aristocracy, he had been able to influence
many whom the plebeian prophets could not reach at all.
But this negative significance of his work was, of course.
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327
imperceptible to Ezekiel; it can only be discerned in the
perspective of later, comparative history. Perhaps it was
when he approached his fortieth year (about 580 B.C.E.),
shortly after the final destruction of Jerusalem, that he
found himself sunk in deep pessimism. What seemed a
lifetime of effort had produced no visible results; he could
expect people to follow him only when his predictions
would be confirmed. But that would be long after his
death, when vindications would be useless.
And yet the vigorous mind would not surrender. Weary
of his poetic muse, he would try another instrument. He
ceased to be the poet, and became the rhetorician.
He no longer sang, he spoke; he refused to entertain, he
would only exhort. Those who wanted to be amused with
clever rhythms and beautiful metaphors could go elsewhere;
he would speak directly, pointedly, and clearly, in emphatic
prose, repeating himself when necessary, straining after no
oratorical or literary effects, giving the people only his unvar-
nished ideas. He even went over the material he had already
written down, and added prose supplements and revisions
to his earlier poetic utterances. From the point of view of
the historian, this change of style was most fortunate, for
it enables us to distinguish the later prophecies, revisions,
and supplementary notes, from the original poems, and thus
to follow EzekieFs spiritual and intellectual development
from the beginning until the end.®®
Ezekiel’s new preference for the prose style was, however,
symptomatic of deeper changes in the whole character of
the man. He had not merely grown older in years, he was
richer in experience. Rationalize the situation as he might,
the fact was that he turned his back on poetry because he
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THE PHARISEES
had himself become prosaic, interested less in giving vent
to his inner fire and delivering his message than in achieving
results and leading people. The doctrines which he preached
at this period of his life prove this. They reflect not only
more mature reasoning than those of his youth, but an
essentially different type of mind.
What had happened is of profound interest to the psychol-
ogist as well as to the student of Scripture. When Ezekiel
had come to Babylonia among the exiles of the year
597 B.C.E., he had found himself, like the other exiles,
utterly destitute. Neither his priestly prerogatives nor his
landed estates were of any use to him in a land where there
was no Jewish temple and where he could collect no rentals
from his Judaite property. How did he maintain himself?
He was not yet a prophet; and even when he became one,
it is altogether improbable that he received any emoluments
from that office. His book leaves us no room for doubt;
he became a craftsman. As part of his vocation, he learned
the art of engraving a city on brick after the manner of
the Babylonians (4.1); he knew how to portray a siege on
this map of clay (ibid.); he trained himself to the utmost
precision in weights and measures (4.10; 5.1); and could
even construct in his mind the complicated machinery of
the Divine Chariot (ch. 1, etc.), and the architectural
intricacies of the future Temple (ch. 40 ff.). The use of
such technical symbols and imagery can have but one
meaning; the land-owning priest of Palestine had become an
artisan.
The associations into which his vocation led him would
inevitably have affected Ezekiel’s conception of his task.
The development was hastened, however, by the social
traditions of the prophetic group to which he adhered.
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329
As will presently be demonstrated, this group consisted
primarily of urban plebeians, the former artisans and traders
of Jerusalem’s market place. Ezekiel’s association with
them, rather than with the “false,” patriotic, provincial
prophets, who were sending letters even from distant
Babylonia to incite the Judaites to renewed war, was
originally a pure accident — the result of his devotion to
God and his mistrust of the Temple and its ecclesiastics.
But having once joined them and led them, he became
gradually converted to their views, not merely with regard
to the principal issue of the day — the relation of Judah to
Babylonia — but also with regard to such questions as
anthropomorphic description of God, the doctrine of
individual responsibility, and social justice. Like other
converts of middle age,*® Ezekiel became an extremist
member of the faction he had joined, feeling free to break
away completely from the traditions which bound even
that group and to carry their ideas to their logical con-
clusion.
He now declared that the individual, not the nation, was
the proper focus of prophetic activity. Turning his back on
everything he had said from the beginning of his prophetic
activity, he described the prophet as a watchman, who is
responsible for the safety of the city, in the sense that he
must keep secure the life of each of its inhabitants (3.17 f.;
33.1 ff.). When anyone commits a sin, it becomes the duty
of the watchman to warn him, in order that he may return
to righteousness. God desires not to punish the wicked,
Ezekiel now assures us, but to bring them back to the good
life (33.11). To those who recalled that for many years
Ezekiel had failed to carry out what he now declared his
foremost duty, he explains that God had forbidden him to
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act the part of the prophet. The people through their sins
had forfeited his guidance (3.26).
But if under normal conditions the individual and his
fate are the prophet’s primary concern, that must be
because God punishes and rewards individuals, rather than
people. Nationalist and family ties thus cease to have
significance. A righteous man can save neither his son nor
his daughter; the soul that sinneth, it shall die (18.4).
Indeed, he went so far as to say that though “Noah, Daniel,
and Job” (three of the foremost saints) were in a city which
was threatened with danger, “they should deliver but their
own souls by their righteousness” (14.14).^“ Their justice
and their mercy would be of no avail to their fellow-
townsmen, for each man and woman and child must be
saved by individual merit.
With this high conception of the individual, Ezekiel
brought back into prophecy the plebeian sensitiveness to
social injustice. The oppression of the weak by the strong
is as much apostasy from God as the worship of idols or
the refusal to observe proper ceremonials. The great
iniquity of Jerusalem was not, he now holds, her way-
wardness from God, but the ethical wrong-doing of which
the plebeian prophets had spoken so often. “Behold, the
princes of Israel, everyone according to his might, have
been in thee to shed blood. In thee have they made light
of father and mother; in the midst of thee have they dealt
by oppression with the stranger; in thee have they wronged
the fatherless and the widow .... In thee, have been tale-
bearers to shed blood; and in thee have they eaten upon
the mountains; in the midst of thee they have committed
lewdness .... In thee have they taken gifts to shed blood;
thou hast taken interest and increase, and thou hast greedily
THE PROPHETIC IDEAL OF EQUALITY
331
gained of thy neighbours by oppression, and hast forgotten
Me, saith the Lord God” (22.6 ff.).
In another passage he is equally emphatic and powerful:
“If a man be just, and do that which is lawful and right,
and hath not eaten upon the mountains, neither hath he
lifted up his eyes to the idols of the house of Israel, neither
hath defiled his neighbour’s wife, neither hath he come
near to a woman in her impurity; and hath not wronged
any, but hath restored his pledge for a debt, hath taken
nought by robbery, hath given his bread to the hungry, and
hath covered the naked with a garment; he that hath not
given forth upon interest, neither hath taken any increase,
that hath withdrawn his hand from iniquity, hath executed
true justice between man and man, hath walked in My
statutes, and hath kept Mine ordinances, to deal truly; he
is just, he shall surely live, saith the Lord God” (18.5 flF.).
It is significant that he regards as the culminating sin
of Sodom not inhospitality — for which the Book of
Genesis indicts her^^ — but arrogance and perversion of
justice. “Behold,” he cried, “this was the iniquity of thy
sister, Sodom” (16.49). Clearly in these lines Ezekiel had
in mind the evils which he saw in the city in which he
lived. The anger which he was pouring forth against
Sodom was intended, as so frequently in plebeian prophecy,
for nearer and more contemporary wrong-doers.
In one of his greatest prophecies he inveighs against the
“shepherds of Israel,” the leaders of the destroyed Judaite
Commonwealth. “Woe unto the shepherds of Israel that
have fed themselves! Should not the shepherd feed the
sheep? Ye did eat the fat, and ye clothed you with the wool,
ye killed the fatlings; yet ye fed not the sheep. The weak
have ye not strengthened, neither have ye healed that
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which was sick, neither have ye bound up that which was
broken, neither have ye brought back that which was
driven away, neither have ye sought that which was lost;
but with force have ye ruled over them and with rigour”
(34.2 ff.) . In a second passage, he returns to his invective
against the powerful with a somewhat different picture:
“And as for you, O My Hock, thus saith the Lord God:
Behold, I judge between cattle and cattle, even the rams
and the he-goats. Seemeth it a small thing unto you to
have fed upon the good pasture, but ye must tread down
with your feet the residue of your pasture? And to have
drunk of the settled waters, but ye must foul the residue
with your feet? And as for My sheep, they eat that which
ye have trodden with your feet, and they drink that which
ye have fouled with your feet .... Because ye thrust with
side and with shoulder, and push all the weak with your
horns, till ye have scattered them abroad; therefore will I
save My flock, and they shall no more be a prey; and I
will judge between cattle and cattle” (34.17 ff.).
Advancing beyond anything taught by the prophets
before him, Ezekiel now declares all men equal. Revising
his book, he invented the term “son of man” for God’s
address to him,^* to signify that even the divine messenger
appears before his Master only as one of the multitude.
The territories which in his final eschatological vision he
divides among the twelve tribes are to be exactly equal.
With his usual mathematical precision he insists that they
will extend in parallel longitudinal strips across the country
from east to west, with a central section set aside for the
Temple and the priests. Not only the tribes, but also the
individuals composing them, are to be treated with absolute
equality. In order to achieve this, the returning tribes
THE PROPHETIC IDEAL OP EQ.UALITY
333
would be equal numerically, as well as territorially. Hence
he reports, “Thus saith the Lord God: This shall be the
border, whereby ye shall divide the land for inheritance
according to the twelve tribes of Israel, Joseph receiving two
portions. And ye shall inherit it, one as well as another,
concerning which I lifted up My hand to give it unto your
fathers” (47.13). The ideal Commonwealth is no longer to
have a King, but a prince {Nasi), to whom a special estate
is assigned. “It shall be to him for a possession in Israel,
and My princes shall no more wrong My people; but they
shall give the land to the house of Israel according to their
tribes” (45.8).
The mechanistic, arithmetical approach to all of life’s
problems, which led Ezekiel to use technician’s metaphors
and symbols, and to arrange the future Commonwealth into
a cubistic pattern, suggesting the worker in wood, was
carried over into his peculiarly schematic doctrine of reward
and punishment. The repenting sinner will be forgiven, but
if a man do righteousness all his life and sin at the end,
“none of his righteous deeds that he hath done shall be
remembered; for his trespass that he trespassed, and for his
sin that he hath sinned, for them shall he die” (18.24).
On the other hand a man may be wicked all his life and
repent at the end, and then “none of his transgressions
that he hath committed shall be remembered against
him” (18.22). “Yet ye say,” continues Ezekiel, “the way of
the Lord is not equal. Hear now, O house of Israel: Is it
My way that is not equal? Is it not your ways that are
unequal?” (18.25) The Hebrew expression which we render
in English by “equal” or “straight” is taken from carpentry!
His mature conception of God became as urban, lofty,
sophisticated, and spiritual, as it had been provincial and
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THE PHARISEES
anthropomorphic. To conceal the realistic picture of the
Deity which he had drawn and published in his first proph-
ecy, he had recourse to a curious device. He surrounded
the original verses with a much larger supplement, in which
they are all but lost. He created a vast and intricate
“Heavenly Chariot,” with “beasts” and “wheels” moving
in various directions, and making an overwhelming picture
on the mind as it tries to grasp the complicated, inten-
tionally unintelligible structure. After years of life in
Babylonia, he no longer saw the Divine Presence manifest
itself through the opening of the heavens, but as “coming
from the north,” where the Babylonians placed their deities.^^
The prophet now accepted also the principle of the
centralization of worship. The restored Temple was to be
built, not indeed in Jerusalem, but in a new city, located
nearer the center of the land. But it would be the sole
sanctuary. In order to reconcile his early prophecies with
this new doctrine, Ezekiel again had recourse to an amazingly
clever device — he dated his prophecy by Josiah’s refor-
mation What could be better evidence of his acceptance
of Josiah’s principles than making their promulgation the
beginning of an era. Yet it is impossible to believe that
this date was original. The ancient Israelites never, so far
as we know, counted their years from specific historical
events. The only exceptions to this rule are a few obviously
post-exilic passages like I Kings 6.1, which date later events
from the Exodus. But not even prophetic extravagance
could place Josiah’s reformation in the same class with the
birth of Israel as a people. More than that, all of the
other prophecies in the book are dated either by the years
of Jehoiachin’s reign,^® or by the beginning of the Exile.
THE PROPHETIC IDEAL OF EQ.UALITY
335
Why should the first prophecy be dated by the reformation,
except to indicate the importance of that epoch-making
event to the prophet?
Ezekiel’s career was drawing to its close when in the year
562 B.C.E. Amil-Marduk, the biblical Evil-merodach, came
to the throne of Babylonia and suddenly inspired the
Judaites with new Messianic hopes of a speedy return to
their homeland. But before the Babylonian ruler could
carry out any beneficent plans toward Judah, he was
deposed and slain, and Nergal-Shar-Usur, spiritual heir of
Nebuchadnezzar, came to the throne, putting an end to all
expectations of immediate return.
These frustrated expectations made Ezekiel more critical
of Babylonia than he had been in the earlier decades of
the exile. In his original prophecies he spoke of the
Chaldeans with unconcealed admiration, and was intensely
devoted to them. He predicted only victories for them,
against Jerusalem, against Tyre, against Egypt. But the
disappointment of the hopes aroused by Amil-Marduk made
the Judaites bitter, and in the last prophecies of Ezekiel
a new note of hostility to Babylonia appears. Naturally
this enmity had to be well concealed, but it is not difficult
to recognize it through the thin disguise with which the
prophet covers it. Other teachers living in Palestine and
wishing to predict Babylonia’s imminent downfall, resorted
to a simple cipher. They used the Hebrew alphabet back-
ward, so to speak, writing the last letter, Tau, for the first,
Aleph^ Shin for Bet, Resh for Gimmel, and so forth. Babel
thus became Sheshach, and Kasdim (the Chaldeans) were
called Leb-kamaiA But such a cipher was possible only in
the outlying provinces and in rural communities, where the
336
THE PHARISEES
preacher was safe from denunciation and betrayal. In
Babylonia, where the number of delators must have been
considerable, such an obvious cipher would have afforded little
protection. Ezekiel resorts to a subtler, less artificial, but
equally effective method. He pours forth his anger not
against Babylonia, but against Tyre and Egypt. But the
sins which he chooses to denounce in those distant monar-
chies were those which to any Judaite, particularly a plebe-
ian, would seem to be particularly characteristic of Babyl-
onia herself: pride, self-will, haughtiness and arrogance.
“Thus saith the Lord God:
Because thy heart is lifted up,
And thou hast said: I am a God,
I sit in the seat of God,
In the heart of the seas;
Yet thou art man and not God,
Though thou didst set thy heart as the heart of God —
Behold, thou art wiser than Daniel!
There is no secret that they can hide from thee!
By thy wisdom and thy discernment
Thou hast gotten thee riches;
And hast gotten gold and silver
Into thy treasures;
In thy great wisdom by thy traffic.
Hast thou increased thy riches.
And thy heart is lifted up because of thy riches —
Therefore thus saith the Lord God:
Because thou hast set thy heart
As the heart of God;
Therefore, behold, I will bring strangers upon thee.
THE PROPHETIC IDEAL OF EQ.UALITy
337
The terrible of the nations;
And they shall draw their swords against the beauty
of thy wisdom.
And they shall defile thy brightness” (28.1 ff.).
Can we doubt that the Judaites who had suffered so
grievously at the hands of Babylonia, and so little at the
hands of Tyre, were keeping Nebuchadnezzar in mind
throughout the whole passage ? There was no need of inter-
pretation, and no danger of decipherment. Ostensibly
Ezekiel was speaking with vehemence of Babylonia’s
enemies and rebellious subjects. But all his Judaite hearers
knew that the prophet’s heart was bursting with rage not
against the Phoenician who had left Judah in peace, but
against the tyrant whose conquering armies had pillaged
the land, devastated the capital, burned the Temple,
slaughtered innocents, violated virgins, and enslaved men.
The prophet cautiously inserts into the midst of his tirade
the verse “in the heart of the seas”; but that is an obvious
decoy. Remove the phrase — in Hebrew but two words —
and the discourse applies with unerring accuracy to
Babylonia. It was the great King of Babylon, not poor
Hiram of Tyre, who placed himself in the seat of the gods,
whose heart had been lifted up because of his riches, who
had thought of himself, “I am a God.”^^
When, turning from Tyre to Egypt, Ezekiel prophesies
its doom at the hands of the Chaldeans, we still know that
his indignation against Pharaoh is a case of transference.
He is giving vent to long suppressed bitterness and finding a
suitable object for it in the Nile Kingdom, which serves but
as effigy for its rival on the Euphrates.
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THE PHARISEES
To the beautiful poem about Egypt he had composed in
his youth, he adds the prosaic remarks; “Therefore thus
saith the Lord, God: because thou art exalted in stature,
and he hath set his top among the thick boughs, and his
heart is lifted up in his height; I do even deliver him into
the hand of the mighty one of the nations; he shall surely
deal with him; I do drive him out according to his
wickedness” (31.10 ff.).
The passionate complaint against Egyptian pride trans-
forms the whole of the older poem from an attack on
Pharaoh into an equally powerful, but far more subtle,
denunciation of Babylonia. What, indeed, could the prophet
on the Tigris know of Egyptian haughtiness or suffer because
of it? It was the nearer, Babylonian pride and arrogance
which called forth his anger and his bitterness.
The most powerful of Ezekiel’s later prophecies against
Babylonia occurs in the mystifying predictions about
“Gog, the land of Magog.” That the true significance
of this prophecy should have remained hidden is the
stranger since the cipher is comparatively simple.**® There
was no nation called Magog in Ezekiel’s day. There had
been such a tribe in ancient times and it is numbered among
the descendants of Japhet (Gen. 10.2). But it had never
become important and the possibility that such a people
would attain world dominion was infinitely remote. What
then did Ezekiel have in mind when he foresaw the day
when “Gog would come into the land of Israel.” A
moment’s reflection will explain it. Write Magog backwards
in Hebrew {Gagam) and substitute for each letter the one
preceding it in the Hebrew alphabet, and it becomes Babel,
Babylonia. To save himself further from detection, the
prophet associates with Magog a number of Japhethite and
THE PROPHETIC IDEAL OF EQUALITY
339
Hamite nations (“Persia, Ethiopia and Put with them”)j
and then proceeds to say: “It shall come to pass in that
day, that things shall come into thy mind, and thou shalt
devise an evil device; and thou shalt say: I will go up against
the land of un walled villages; I will come upon them that are
at quiet, that dwell safely, all of them dwelling without
walls, and having neither bars nor gates; to take spoil and
to take the prey; to turn thy hand against the waste places,
that are now inhabited, and against the people that are
gathered out of the nations, that have gotten cattle and
goods, that dwell in the middle of the earth .... And it
shall come to pass in that day when Gog shall come against
the land of Israel^ saith the Lord God, that My fury shall
arise up in My nostrils .... And I will call for a sword
against him throughout all my mountains, saith the Lord
God .... And I will plead against him with pestilence and
with blood and I will cause to rain upon him and upon his
bands, and upon the many peoples that are with him, an
overflowing shower, and great hail-stones, fire, and brim-
stone” (38.10 if.). The idea that Ezekiel simply built up
this apocalyptic vision of an unknown people who will rule
the earth and meet their doom in Palestine only for his
amusement, seems preposterous. When he spoke of a
nation ruling the earth, he and everyone who heard him
thought at once of Nebuchadnezzar. Cover the image in
other garments as he might, his people knew that he was
foretelling a second Babylonian invasion of Palestine, whose
cities would be unwalled, and whose people would be
undefended. And then, God would appear to destroy the
foe and avenge the insult that He had suffered with His
people in the destruction of 586. “Thus will I magnify
Myself, and sanctify Myself, and I will make Myself known
340
THE PHARISEES
in the eyes of many nations; and they shall know that I
am the Lord” (38.23).
The prophet, using these strange ciphers, succeeded in
carrying his thought to his hearers without exposing himself
to any danger from traducers. No Babylonian official could
possibly understand how Ezekiel, prophesying the doom of
Babylonia’s enemies, was really gloating over her own
destruction. It would have seemed incredible and far-
fetched; since, of course, the Babylonians could not regard
themselves as the incarnation of Arrogance. Perhaps a
modern reader, who has never had to suffer oppression and
to stifle protest, will find it equally difficult to believe that
the audience followed the mental trend of the prophet
without previous understanding of the ciphers used. But
when the minds of the hearer and speaker are in absolute
harmony, little effort is required to bring images from one
to the other. A mere suggestion is sufficient. What we, at
the distance of thousands of years, can arrive at only after
patient and careful study, the simplest hearer understood as
soon as the sound was uttered. So also centuries after
Ezekiel, the rabbinic sages frequently used Pharaoh, Haman,
Bileam, Edom, Amalek, Assyria, Babylonia and other
forgotten persons and peoples as effigies for their per-
secutors.^® They even dared insert in their prayers a petition
for the destruction of the Kingdom of Arrogance, without
fear that the true significance of it would be understood.®®
Almost within our own time, in the Russia of the Czars,
itinerant preachers would portray in the synagogues the
doom of Israel’s enemies; and while the names they repeated
were always biblical and rabbinic — Pharaoh, Sennacherib,
Nebuchadnezzar, Antiochus and Hadrian — the passion
THE PROPHETIC IDEAL OE EQUALITY
341
behind the words was directed at the tyrant of St.
Petersburg.” The oppressed of the world must always
find some way to give vent to their pains. And just as in
the fortress of St. Peter and St. Paul the prisoners who
had never communicated with each other by word of mouth
soon learned to interpret the taps made on the walls by
their fellows in neighboring cells and were thus enabled to
carry on conversations with them;” just as in the South,
the slaves managed to carry information from one to another
during the Civil War,” so that they were always informed
of its progress without the help of their masters; so the
Jews, both ancient and modern, smarting under their
oppressors, found some outlet for their anguish in uttering
against forgotten enemies the bitterness which they felt
toward the present oppressor.
In Ezekiel’s classless society, urban prophecy finds its fit
culmination. It was a natural product of the exile, where
new beginnings had to be made and no old tradition had
to be considered. The prophet who had been reared in
Babylonia could see how utterly irrelevant were all dis-
tinctions of caste and class. As in a dungeon or in the
grave, prince and pauper, priest and squire, artisan and
trader, giver and beggar, were equal and alike. Stripped of
the insignia, not less than of the advantages of position,
the proud descendants of kings and nobles stood quietly
beside the meanest child of the slums and recognized his
equality with them. The idea which had been germinating
for centuries among the plebeians would now be grasped in
its fullness and its entirety. For all his radicalism, the
mature Ezekiel appears the obvious spiritual heir of Amos,
Isaiah, Habakkuk and Jeremiah.
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THE PHARISEES
The patrician teaching which these plebeian groups so
vigorously opposed found no expression in pre-exilic litera-
ture. No prophet who adopted it could have been immor-
talixed in the canon. But its existence is implied by the
ferocious attack which it evoked. We shall presently see
that in the Second Commonwealth the Wisdom teachers
and the Sadducees formulated the traditional attitude of
their class into an ethical philosophy. But whether the
earlier nobility pursued its goal consciously or instinctively,
it certainly was a definite and powerful stratum of the
population, which sought continuously to subject the
others to itself.
There thus appears with regard to the doctrine of equality
the same tripartite division of the nation which we already
found in examining the teaching of Providence. The
plebeians of the city and the shepherd class demanded
equality; the patricians denied it; while the peasantry, both
the rich gentry and the poorer farmers, were unaware of
any struggle or difference.
The struggle between the various classes becomes more
significant when seen against the background of the legis-
lation of the Torah. The Pentateuch everywhere upholds
the contention of the plebeians and the principle of human
equality. It is this fact which makes the neutrality of the
farmer and the opposition of the patrician particularly
striking. Indeed, at the end of eight centuries, long after the
Torah had become the recognized constitution of the land,
we still find each party adhering to its own attitude and
philosophy. The patrician was still struggling against
equality and the farmer still retained his neutrality; while
the plebeian alone carried on in the spirit of the Law. Only
THE PROPHETIC IDEAL OF EQ.UALITY
343
SO far as the principle of human equality had been given
definite expression in explicit norms, was it accepted by
all. Yet to that extent the Torah did alleviate the condi-
tion of the oppressed and stay the hand of the exploiter
and tyrant. Even more, in spite of selfish class interest,
the patrician came to realize vaguely that he was setting
himself against the spirit of the Law he revered, and many
a time yielded to God when he would have resisted man.
XVI. THE ORIGIN OF THE PROPHETIC
DOCTRINE OF PEACE
Each of the three major social strata of the ancient
Judean Commonwealth had its own international policy.
To put the matter briefly, the farmer was an uncompro-
mising nationalist; the urban plebeian, a liberal universalist;
and the court aristocrat, a perpetual opportunist. ‘ The
history of the Jewish commonwealth from the tenth century
B.C.E. onward is a continuous demonstration of this truth,
which applied to the days of Isaiah no less than to those of
Malachi, and to the time of Ben Sira as well as to that of
the Pharisees and the later rabbis. The various attitudes
of each group were inevitable outgrowths of its spiritual
needs and economic necessities. Yet it is interesting to
note how logically they are correlated also with the various
abstract beliefs about God and the world which have been
described in preceding chapters. The farmer’s nationalism
was as natural as his primitive doctrine of personality.
His faith that his personal fortunes were a matter of con-
cern to the Deity strengthened and supported his nationalist
arrogance. The patrician, who denied any divine control
over the affairs of men and pursued with relentless avarice
his goal of mundane success, inevitably sought to make
capital out of every occurrence and combination of circum-
stances in public no less than in private life. Finally the
urban plebeian, whose sophisticated mind could not be
content with a denial of self, and who yet held his baser
impulses in check by a fine idealistic belief in God, was
344
ORIGIN OR PROPHETIC DOCTRINE OF PEACE 345
naturally driven to pacifist universalism, in which all men
were recognized -as brothers.
The political cleavage was, however, also associated with
a wide variation in form of worship between patrician,
plebeian, and provincial. The masses of the country
peasantry followed practices which were drawn in equal
parts from the desert service of YHWH and the agri-
cultural ritual of the Baal. Both were indigenous to the
land, the one to the fertile valleys, the other to the stony
hills and sandy wilderness. But the farmer would have
rejected vigorously any attempt to introduce a foreign god,
like those of Tyre, or Egypt, or Moab. On the other hand,
the metropolitan patricians, headed by the King and the
princes, worshiped in the Temple of YHWH in Jerusalem,
but at the same time their hearts turned continually to
the other gods of the neighboring countries. Their respect
for the great nations always inclined them to seek solace
also from the gods whom those peoples served. Like some
modern men and women, in other aspects of life, they con-
fused emancipation with faithlessness. Opposed to both
these groups, were the plebeians of the city, who, as sophis-
ticated as the nobility, were yet loyal to the God and
customs of their forefathers. The social trichotomy thus
cut across the whole spiritual life of the ancient Jew; to
whatever corner of his thought one turned, one always
found the threefold division between the patrician courtier,
the plebeian worker and the rural peasant. In the present
chapter and those immediately following, it is our purpose
to show how these opposing doctrines aflFected, and were
affected by, passing historical events.
Together with his respect for his own people the rural
Judaite developed also a deep love for their customs and
346
THE PHARISEES
ceremonies. His traditional rites, festivals, and modes of
worship were sacred beyond words. If he was a henotheist,
and believed in other gods besides the God of Israel, he
held them to be debased, mean and weak. No other country
was like his own. All lands but Palestine were “unclean.”®
She was superior even in what appeared to be her faults.
Thus, as late as the second century C.E., a rural sage tells
us that among Palestine’s advantages over Egypt are her
hills. “For when you own a single acre in the plain, that
is all you have. But if you own an acre on a hill, you have
an acre on each slope — to the north, to the south, to the
east, and to the west, as well as on the summit; so that
the area of the land is quintupled!”®
The patriotism of the gentry was the more emphatic
because they formed the military class.^ We might suppose,
a priori, that those who have to risk their lives in battle
would be most loathe to engage in war. Yet historically,
soldiers are the most hrmgry for it. Nor is this altogether
strange. The avidity of the explorer for the frozen north, of
the scientist for dangerous experiment, of the aviator for the
unknown perils of the air, and of the pietist for martyrdom,
show how little man really cares for life. When an adventure
to the thought of which man is accustomed calls, all else is
forgotten. Had this not been so, wars would, as William
James recognized,® have ceased long ago. Since the ancient
militia, like that of the Middle Ages, was drawn from the
anshe hayyil, the country squires, the natural chauvinism of
the class was sharpened and enhanced.
The farmer’s taste for war was whetted by the rewards
it offered him. As we have already noted, the new lands
seized from weaker nations, the booty taken from the
ORIGIN Of PROPHETIC DOCTRINE OF PEACE 347
opposing armies or the unhappy civilianSj the men and
women captured in battle or siege, were divided among
the warriors (cf. I Sam. 22.7; Jer. 37.12). The landowner
might double his property, he could increase the number
of his slaves, he could add a new face to his harem. The
picture of victory drawn by the mother of Sisera belonged
in truth to all ages:
“Are they not finding, are they not dividing the spoil?
A damsel, two damsels to every man;
To Sisera a spoil of dyed garments,
A spoil of dyed garments of embroidery,
The dyed garments of broidery for the neck of every
spoiler?” (Judg. 5.30).
The only difference was that in later “civilized” times, lands
and men slaves were more prized than women and em-
broidered garments.
The urban plebeians were as pacifist as the farmers were
warlike.® The artisans and traders of Jerusalem had nothing
to gain from victory and all to lose in defeat. Generals
and soldiers proceeding to battle were apt to commandeer
their goods or their cattle and even their services.
Returning successful, their arrogance was increased and
their power enhanced. During the course of war trade
routes were deflected, foreign custom was driven to other
centers, and the country’s own commerce was minimized.
Especially when Jerusalem had become the “gate of
peoples,” did the merchants begin to feel the heavy burdens
of war. But even before that the interests of its traders
lay in continued peace and quiet. Every long stretch of
348
THE PHARISEES
peace brought prosperity and growth to the city; war
always brought about impoverishment.
These troubles, associated with any conflict, were incom-
parably aggravated if the army suffered defeat. For then
the capital was besieged by the enemy and exposed to the
ravages of famine, thirst, disease, and continuous, nerve-
destroying battle. Trade was completely at an end, and,
worst of all, there was before one the continual nightmare
of victory for the besieger. Once a breach had been made
in the wall, death became better than life for the citizens
of the unhappy town. The besieging army, infuriated by
delay, threw itself mercilessly on the inhabitants, sparing
neither old nor young, man nor woman. Those who escaped
death were carried off into exile or sold as slaves. Their
wives were fortunate to be taken as handmaidens and
concubines; they might be turned over to a life of infamy,
rented out to any passer-by like a cow or a cart.^ These
terrors were all too vivid for the metropolitan trader; he
heard too much about wars and how they were carried on
to have any illusions about the fate in store for the van-
quished. And well he knew his own people’s weakness in
comparison with the strength of the surrounding nations.
The villager might really believe his people’s army
invincible. In his childish simplicity he might trust the
bards who told him only of victories but never mentioned
defeats. His complete trust in the God of Israel gave him
additional courage and strength, for it never occurred to
him that God might fail His people. The trader of Jerusalem
knew the world better. He had met the men of other
nations at the bazaars, and knew the strength of their
armies and their resources. He had a more universalistic
ORIGIN OF PROPHETIC DOCTRINE OF PEACE 349
conception of God and realized that the Deity had no
predilections among peoples. He saw the corruption at
court, recognized the incompetence of kings and rulers, and
understood the weakness of captains and generals. Terror
and understanding combined to make the city plebeian a
thoroughgoing pacifist who shrank from war above all
evils, and who believed that “God could find no vessel
holding greater blessing for Israel than peace.”®
With all his internationalism and universalist sympathies
the urban plebeian yet agreed with the farmer in his devo-
tion to ancestral ceremonies. The union of the two ideals,
which to many a modern may seem contradictory, is
manifest in the whole history of the urban-plebeian group.
Understanding fully the might and wisdom of other peoples,
the artisan or trader of Jerusalem did not yet resign his
judgment to them. Like all men he preferred the ways,
manners and rites to which his childhood had accustomed
him. The respect he gave to other peoples did not seem
to him sufficient reason for adopting their civilization or
culture. On the contrary, since he early became convinced
that there was no hope of empire for his people, his patri-
otism expended itself altogether in a passion for their spiritual
life. Thus he could never be persuaded to risk his life to
extend his country’s boundaries, yet we find him again and
again a willing martyr for his traditions and his culture.
To the contemporary farmer, as well as to the patrician,
this attitude must have seemed paradoxical, like the associ-
ation of freedom of choice with divine foreknowledge.
But to the urban plebeian himself it seemed natural and
logical. His love for his people had nothing to do with
political boundaries or imperial designs; it was religious,
350
THE PHARISEES
spiritual and cultural. When their independence was at
stake he worried not at all; when their Torah was threatened
nothing was too precious to be offered in its defense.
Over and above these two groups, the warlike gentry and
the pacifist metropolitans, rose the aristocracy of the Court.
They shared the warlike passions of the gentry, but also
the cool understanding of their plebeian fellow-citizens of
Jerusalem. Many of them had been reared on their
ancestral estates in the provinces; others had inherited
rural prejudices from their fathers and grandfathers. We
have already seen how their particular customs can in
general be traced to country conditions. Closely allied to
the peasants through ties of blood and of culture, they
were also the commanders of the army. They enjoyed war
with a relish, as a surgeon enjoys a difficult operation.
But their desire for war was held in close check by infor-
mation which the deluded peasantry did not share.
They were not, like the peasants, deceived regarding the
strength of their own people or of its mighty neighbors.
They knew that in any battle between tiny Judea and the
powerful empires of Egypt, Assyria, Babylonia, or Rome,
there could be no doubt of the ultimate issue. They had
no desire to be taken from their luxurious palaces to a
distant dungeon; and they could never be moved to risk
an exchange of the dominion they exerted at home for the
slavery which might await them elsewhere. Moreover, like
the nobility of most small peoples, they developed a sincere
admiration for the leaders of greater nations. Having no
standard of excellence save power, they fawned on the
strong as they bullied the weak. We have seen that they
had no real faith. They believed in the existence of God
but would have heartily subscribed to the blasphemy that
ORIGIN OF PROPHETIC DOCTRINE OF PEACE 351
“God is on the side of the strongest battalions.” Relying on
their resources of material power and clever leadership,
they were prepared to give battle only when they felt the
chances of victory lay with them. At all other times they
were as pacifist as the plebeians. In fact they went further
than the plebeians. While the plebeians loved their people
and its culture, the patricians having no such faith or
loyalty became (when they were convinced of their nation’s
weakness) absolute assimilationists. Political quietism
was not enough for them; they had to yield their very souls
and spirits.
Generation after generation, the interplay of the three
parties repeated itself. The surrounding enemies, the
internal conditions, the political configuration of the land,
the economic status of the whole people, changed. But so
long as the three classes — country gentry, city plebeians,
and court patricians — persisted, each maintained the same
cultural and political position which it had held in earlier
days.
The political struggle between the patricians and the
plebeians probably arose long before the tenth century
B.C.E. But our information for those early periods is too
meager to become the basis for a generalization. It appears,
however, that the shepherd clans which in the earliest days
were certainly as warlike as the peasants, gradually lost
their desire for battle.
Some interesting records of this love of peace are notice-
able in the Torah. First among these, perhaps, is the
remarkable transformation of the Cain-Abel story from a
primitive war saga into a pacifist allegory.® The moral of
the present story, which describes how Abel, the righteous
shepherd, was slain by his wicked brother Cain, the peasant.
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THE PHARISEES
•whom God thereupon condemned to wander homeless
about the earth, is clear. It is intended to inculcate tender-
ness and the hatred of violence. But this can be neither
the original form nor intent of the composer. The
Kenite or, more properly, Cainite tribe, whose eponymous
hero figures so prominently in the drama, was not agri-
cultural but nomadic. It retained its unsettled habits
long after Israel and Judah had become organized nations;
in fact, it is this nomadic trait which the story explains
as punishment for the ancestral sin. How then does it
happen that the founder of the tribe is described in Scripture
as a farmer? The tortuous explanations ofiFered by the
commentators avail us nothing; it is clear that the basic
myth has undergone inversion as well as conversion. Cain
could originally have stood for no other class than the
nomadic shepherds of the southern wilderness, and Abel,
his brother, was consequently the peasant. The Kenite
bards, to whom we owe the story in its simplest form,
pictured in it a raid by their tribe on a neighboring rural
settlement, which was utterly destroyed. Our accounts of
the Kenites show that they were fully capable of such
butchery. Their women no less than their men were handy
with implements of death. That demure lady, Jael, who,
inviting a fleeing general into her house, dashed his brains
out while he bent over a bowl of milk which she had handed
him, was a Kenite. The contemporary Israelites whom
this brutal assassination saved from a tyrant’s power were
indeed grateful, and sang: “Blessed above women shall
Jael be, the wife of Heber the Kenite” (Judg. 5.24). But
we, being removed from the scene of her Amazonian opera-
tions by some thirty- two centuries, may beg leave to doubt
her dove-like gentleness or the pacifism of the tribe which
ORIGIN OF PROPHETIC DOCTRINE OF PEACE 353
produced her. We can readily see how her fellow- tribesmen
would recall with joy the day of their victory, when they
fell — like the Danites of a later day — on an unsuspecting,
peaceful community and utterly destroyed every member
of it. That Cain murdered Abel seemed to them a cause
for rejoicing rather than for penitence.
But the Hebrew shepherds who adopted the tale from
the Kenites, their near neighbors and friends, reconstructed
it to suit their pacifist notions. They could not believe
that Cain, the murderer, was a shepherd like themselves.
Having no feeling of special loyalty to the name, they
insisted that Abel, the slain victim, was the shepherd, and
that he had died at the hands of a farmer-brother. The
reason for Cain’s jealousy was, they said, that God had
preferred Abel’s offering of sheep to his own sacrifice of
fruit. This last detail, which has so much puzzled the
readers of the Scripture, is final proof of the shepherd
origin of the transformed story. Smile as we may at the
thought, the ancient shepherd truly believed that God
preferred him to the peasant.^ He recalled that Abraham,
Isaac, Jacob, Moses and David had all been chosen from
the shepherd group; Rachel was a shepherd lass, and so
was Zipporah, the wife of Moses. High merit attached, in
his opinion, to the occupation of sheep- tending; and it was
altogether fitting that the first martyr in history should
come from its midst.
In its attempt to inculcate the lesson of peace, the Torah
intentionally employs a current tale to the morals of which
it is diametrically opposed. Through this device it gains a
double pedagogic advantage — it overcomes a social danger,
and actually makes it serve a useful purpose. The poison
is transformed into its own antidote. No one could hope
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THE PHARISEES
to eradicate the memory of so popular a tale as that of
Cain-Abel. The alternative — and a far better one — was
to alter its fundamental character. It was with a similar
double purpose in view that the writer of Scripture recast
the polytheistic myth of Abraham’s encounter with the
three numina into a monotheistic picture of a divine theoph-
any.ii “The wood of the forest must be made the means
of its being cut down.”^*
The history of the patriarchs is pervaded by the pacifist
motif evident in the Cain-Abel allegory.^® Abraham, Isaac,
and Jacob never sought battle. Abraham waged war, as
related in the fourteenth chapter of Genesis, against the
kings who seized his nephew, but having freed him, the
patriarch declined to accept any of the booty. Simeon and
Levi did indeed destroy the city of Shechem, but their
action was denounced by Jacob in his last blessing.
Abraham actually made a covenant of peace with the
Philistines, promising never to attack them. “And it came
to pass at that time, that Abimelech and Phicol the captain
of his host spoke unto Abraham, saying; ‘God is with thee
in all that thou doest. Now therefore swear unto me here
by God that thou wilt not deal falsely with me, nor with
my son, nor with my son’s son; but according to the
kindness that I have done unto thee, thou shalt do unto
me, and to the land wherein thou hast sojourned.’ And
Abraham said: ‘I will swear’” (Gen. 21.22 f.). To appre-
ciate the full meaning of the story, the reader must
remember that the Philistines were the most persistent
enemies of the Israelites. From the day they landed on the
west coast of Palestine (to which, by the way, they gave
its name) until the end of the Commonwealth, they were
almost always at war with the Judaites. The Israelitish
ORIGIN OF PROPHETIC DOCTRINE OF PEACE 355
monarchy was in part established to oppose united strength
to the Philistine confederation, and David’s prestige arose
largely from his victories over the ancient enemies. As
early as Samson’s day, when intermarriage with Canaanites
was not yet considered wicked, his parents objected to his
taking to wife the daughter of “the uncircumcised”
Philistines, who were so cruelly harassing their people. To
declare that this people had been hospitable to Abraham
and Isaac, and that a covenant of peace had been made
between the two peoples, required courage and boldness.
The Torah further describes the Israelites, coming from
Egypt, as pacifists. They waged no war which could
possibly be avoided. Their claim to the land of Canaan is
based not on force, but on God’s promise to Abraham (Gen.
15.18). The land had been forfeited by its sinful inhabi-
tants and was rightfully transferred to another people.
Indeed, the Israelites were sent to Egypt for four hundred
years until the measure of Amoritic wickedness might be
full (ibid. V. 16). On their way to their land, the Israelites
were opposed by the Transjordanian kings, Sihon and Og.
They begged for the right of neutral passage. “ Xet me
pass through thy land; we will not turn aside into field or
into vineyard; we will not drink of the water of the wells;
we will go by the king’s highway until we have passed thy
border’ ” (Num. 21.22). When Sihon and Og declined to
permit them entry, Israel met them in battle.
But the pacifism of the fundamental law was as little
accepted in the rural districts as its teaching of human
equality. The first literary prophets who disagreed so
widely in their attitude toward social conflict were equally
opposed to each other in their conception of Israel and the
other nations. What united them was their common
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THE PHARISEES
enthusiasm for the God of Israel and their hatred of idols.
But there was a great difference in the degree of their
nationalist fervor. Amos was a universalist; he states his
doctrine clearly and unequivocally. “Are ye not as the
children of the Ethiopians unto Me, O children of Israel.?”
he asks, in the name of the Lord. “Have not I brought up
Israel out of the land of Egypt, and the Philistines from
Caphtor, and Aram from Kir?” (9.7). All peoples are
equal before the Lord.
Amos opens his book with a significant arraignment of
the nations of the world before the bar of Divine Justice.
One by one he calls them and indicts them: Damascus,
Philistia, Tyre, Edom, Ammon, Moab, and finally Israel
and Judah, who by implication are no different from the
others.
Hosea was altogether without any understanding of this
universalism. Just as he was unaware of any social struggle
between rich and poor, so he was blind to the fundamental
equality of his own people with all others. He loved his
people with a passion, still vibrant in cold print. The doom,
which as a prophet of the angry and forsaken God he
foretold for the nation, gave him the deepest anguish, as
he described it. He was not, like Amos, the righteous
judge; he was a helpless advocate who realized his client’s
iniquity.
“How shall I give thee up, Ephraim ?
How shall I surrender thee, Israel ?
How shall I make thee as Admah ?
How shall I set thee as Zeboim?” (11.8).
“When Israel was a child, then I loved him,
And out of Egypt I called My son” (11.1).
ORIGIN OF PROPHETIC DOCTRINE OF PEACE 357
found Israel like grapes in the wilderness^
I saw your fathers as the first-ripe in the fig-tree at
her first season'’ (9.10).
Even when he prophesies doom, it is with a lump in his
throat, with tears ready to pour down his cheeks. We can
almost hear the repressed sob when he says:
‘"Shall I ransom them from the power of the nether-
world ?
Shall I redeem them from death?
Ho, thy plagues, O death!
Ho, thy destruction, O nether- world !
Repentance be hid from Mine eyes!'^ (13.14).
There is nothing in Amos to correspond to this struggle
between the passion for justice and the love of country. It
cannot be a mere coincidence that the two country prophets,
Hosea and Jeremiah, should also be the two in whom the
relation of God to Israel is most continually described as
marital. The prophets transferred to God Himself the deep
feeling which pervaded their hearts when they thought of
their people. Hosea was in fact typical of a whole line of
Jewish teachers who, reared in the country and feeling its
prejudices, had yet come under the influence of the plebeian
doctrine of God. In every generation we find in them a
curious admixture of conflicting ideologies and sympathies,
as they struggled to reconcile in themselves the heart of
the country with the intellect of the city.
But if such was the patriotic passion of the critical
prophet, how deep and engrossing must have been the
nationalism, how narrow the chauvinism, of his untutored
fellows on the farm? After all, Hosea had been called
358
THE PHARISEES
of the Lord and was the prophetic associate of plebeian
pacifists. If the love of nation had such a powerful hold on
him, how completely must it have enshrouded the country
gentry, with their inexperience, their martial ambitions and
their provincial contempt for aliens.
The varying ideologies of the two prophets Amos and
Hosea thus indicate the existence in that early time of two
distinct social philosophies: that of the pacifist plebeians
and that of the nationalist provincials. Beyond both was
that of the patricians, which never appears in prophecy,
because it altogether lacked spiritual ideals. For it, we
must turn not to the pages of inspired oratory but to the
chronicles of historical events. Here we find the patricians
most prominent, since the destiny of the land lay in their
hands. The provincials also appear; but the plebeians, so
important in prophecy, were at first, at least, of too little
importance in politics to figure at all.
The different political views can be traced back almost
to the beginning of Israel’s settlement in Canaan, when for
the first time the ancient distinction between patrician
leaders and plebeian followers was translated into economic
terms. In the wilderness, the clans had lived under a
peculiar system of political autocracy and economic democ-
racy. They were essentially communes, all of whose mem-
bers were equal in the enjoyment of the clan’s property and
supplies. The sheik had indeed almost unlimited authority,
but this was in no manner personal. He was merely the
personification of the clan. He could give no special priv-
ileges to his sons and daughters; he could bequeath to
them no disproportionate privileges in the clan’s posses-
sions; he could not free them from any of their clan
obligations. So meager, indeed, were the possessions of
ORIGIN OF PROPHETIC DOCTRINE OF PEACE 359
these desert groups that any unequal division would have
involved obvious and intense suflFering, such as could only
be inflicted in punishment for clear wrong-doing. Moreover,
the constant danger from hostile neighbors and from the
terrifying elements made the conception of individual
possession a manifest absurdity. No one standing alone
could live for more than a few days; how then could he
think of himself as independent of his clansmen ?
Such was the fundamental democracy of this tribal
organization, that when the Hebrews entered Canaan, they
reduced the division between upper and lower classes
which they found there to the narrowest proportions. The
sharp contrast between the palaces of the Canaanite rich
and the hovels of their poor, disappears in the archaeo-
logical level of Israel’s invasion; their big houses are smaller,
and their small houses larger, than those of their Canaanite
predecessors.
Yet in the course of time the new agricultural life com-
bined with the example set by the ousted Canaanites to
disrupt the primitive sense of clan solidarity, and with it
the consciousness of equality among the members. The
land was divided among the individual members of the
clans, and immediately the family superseded the larger
group as the unit of economic organization.’^^ The patrician
leaders now had their fields, as the plebeian followers had
theirs. Failure of one’s crop led to personal sulFering which
was in no wise shared by one’s neighbor. Each man’s
fields descended from him to his children, fixing the amount
of their supplies forever. When the clan went out to battle,
the spoils were no longer taken into a common treasury for
distribution as they might be needed. They were divided
at once among the warriors; and it was altogether natural
360
THE PHARISEES
that the patrician leaders of the armies should seize the
choice lands and slaves for themselves and their children.
This further widened the breach between leaders and
followers; it was not merely the sheik who held a place of
primacy in the community, but his family, his household,
and his estates. The ancient tradition could not, of course,
be altogether destroyed. The Israeli tish community re-
mained until the very end one of the most democratic in
the whole Orient. The King could be approached by the
meanest commoner and was subject to reproof by
individual subject as well as by assembled tribesmen. The
gathering of all the members of the tribe remained the
final legislative authority, whenever it was convoked.^®
Nevertheless, it was obvious that the old chieftain-ruled
democracies had given way to a new oligarchy of powerful
patrician landowners.
Once a breach was created between patricians and
plebeians, it became part of the fundamental policy of the
upper class to widen it through new conquests and further
self-enrichment. Looking down from the hills of Judah and
Ephraim, which the Israelites already possessed, the
patricians saw stretched out before them a far goodlier
land, with luxuriant vineyards, rich cities, fine houses,
many chariots, quick horses, and innumerable slaves. They
could not restrain their hunger for this desirable morsel,
and could not persuade themselves that they had less right
to the rich spoils of this coastal plain than to the meager
returns of the hill country.
That the lowlands could be conquered only with the
help of the plebeians, who were gradually being submerged,
was obvious. The generals could march forth against their
ORIGIN OF PROPHETIC DOCTRINE OF PEACE 361
enemies only if they were followed by devoted bands of
passionate and deluded soldiers. The aim of the patrician
thus became twofold: to whet the plebeian’s appetite for
war, without giving him more than a minimum of its spoils.^’
There was only one difficulty in the way of the success
of this plan: it was opposed by a group of people who
considered riches an evil and covetousness rebellion against
God. Their doctrine of the simple life, described in chapter
10, was irreconcilable with wars of aggrandizement. They
showed the plebeians how their standard of living in the
hills of Palestine was at least as high as that of their
ancestors had been in the wilderness. To demand more was,
in their opinion, sheer contumacy and apostasy.
These arguments may sound quite strange to us in the
twentieth century, but they had a powerful effect on some
of the ancient peasantry. They came to oppose war not
because it might lead to ruin, but lest it bring enrichment;
they feared victory no less than defeat. They recoiled from
wealth as from idolatry; indeed, the two became inseparable
in their untutored but inspired minds.
Even those plebeians, however, who could not follow the
argument of the advocates of the simple life could be made
to understand that they had little to gain from following
the patricians into battle. That was so simple a fact that
even the simplest could comprehend it. There thus grew
up two factions in ancient Israel: one patrician, militarist,
and expansionist; the other plebeian, quietist, and opposed
to all aggression. Through factors which have been
described in the previous chapters, the first became identi-
fied with the assimilationist worship of the Baal, the second
with the prophetic loyalty to the God of Israel.
661
THE PHARISEES
The issue did not reach critical proportions so long as
the opponents of the Israelites were the Canaanites, whom
they had been dispossessing from the beginning. It entered
a new stage, when the tribes, having suppressed the inter-
vening Canaanite groups, found themselves face to face
with another enemy, the Philistines, who had settled on the
southwestern coast of the land shortly after the Israelites
had crossed the Jordan.
The conflict which ensued between the two peoples was
not easily decided; it lasted in its full virulence for more
than a hundred years. The Hebrews had the advantages of
preponderant numbers and the strategic bases in their
hills; the Philistines, those of superior equipment, better
organization, and war on their own soil. The Samson
legend preserves a vivid recollection of the beginnings of the
protracted war.^* The patricians, anxious to fan the national
spirit of the Israelites into a consuming hatred for their
opponents, resorted to every trick of propaganda. The
character, worship, and personal habits of the lowland
strangers were maligned. The Philistines were declared to
be mean and treacherous, as well as weak and stupid (Judg.
14.18; 16.1 ff.). Their god, Dagon, became a butt for
mocking wits (I Sam. 5.4); and their failure to adopt the
universal Palestinian custom of circumcision was declared a
sufBcient reason against intermarriage with them (Judg. 14.3).
Little could be achieved, however, until the patricians
obtained the assistance of the priests of Shiloh, the fore-
most sanctuary of the Ephraimites, then the leading tribe
in Israel. This highland shrine had originally, like that of
Beth-el, doubtless been devoted to the plebeian ideals of
the simple life.®“ Two factors, however, tended to raise it
to a preeminence dangerous to its traditions: the increasing.
ORIGIN OF PROPHETIC DOCTRINE OF PEACE 363
prosperity of the Ephraimites, its worshipers; and the
possession of the sacred Ark of Mosaic origin. In time, it
surpassed in importance even the patrician temple at
Gilgal; and it was then that it itself became the center of
patrician worship and influence. The defection from tradi-
tion was marked, in the first instance, by the adoption of the
pagan rite of vineyard dances and bride seizures during the
autumnal vintage festival (Judg. 21.19) and apparently also
of Canaanite fertility orgies, including the defilement of the
“women that did service at the door of the tent of meeting”
by the priests themselves (I Sam. 2.22). The priesthood,
who thus fell away from the high ethical standards of their
Levitical ancestors, were openly accused not only of
Canaanite licentiousness, but of greed and avarice. Slave-
owners like other patricians, the priests would send their
servants to collect their portions of the sacrificial meat; and
the servants refusing to accept the parts fixed by custom
and tradition, threatened to use force if the priests’
exorbitant demands were not met.*^
The curious fact that the two latest priests of this
Temple — Hofni and Phinehas — bore non-Hebraic names,
completes the chain of evidence against them.^^ Like the
Jasons and Menelauses of later days, they were not only
secularized and patrician-minded,^® but assimilationist,
ashamed in their Hebrew sanctuary of their Hebrew lan-
guage and their ancestral nomenclature, and anxious
to imitate the “manner of Egypt and Canaan.”
No wonder that these priests deserted the pacifist tra-
ditions of the plebeians and joined the patricians in their
effort to seize new territory for Israel. When the conflict
between Israel and the Philistines culminated in a fierce
struggle at Aphek, near the northern end of the coastal
364
THE PHARISEES
plain, Hofni and Phinehas were ready not merely to join the
armies of their people, but took the sacred Ark from
its ancient shrine with them into the battle lines.
But neither the leadership of the warlike priests nor the
presence of the sacred symbol could save the Israelites.
The two-day battle cost them no less than thirty thousand
lives; they were driven back in a wild rout, while the Ark
of the Lord was captured and its priests were killed. The
Philistines sweeping on in the wake of their great victory,
burned the temple at Shiloh,®^ and established themselves
as masters of the whole country.
The historian tells us little of the events which followed
this crushing disaster. But, doubtless, the defeat of their
armies, the death of their priests, the capture of the Ark,
and the destruction of the sanctuary, must have made a
deep impression on the people. The plebeian, anti-ex-
pansionist party which had almost ceased to exist, was
revived, and insisted more vigorously than ever that Israel’s
defeat had been due to the betrayal of God by His priests,
pointing to the setback as proof of their doctrine that God
was opposed to the policy of aggression.
The influence of the plebeian group was further
augmented through the rise of a new leader who expounded
its principle with greater force and clarity than had any of
his predecessors — the seer, Samuel. The meager records of
his life and activity which have been preserved do not
permit a complete reconstruction of his personality. Yet
there can be no doubt that he was one of the foremost
religious teachers Israel has produced. A highland
Ephraimite by birth, he was thoroughly imbued with the
desert tradition of the simple life and the new shepherd
doctrine of non-agression, and used the tremendous force
ORIGIN OF PROPHETIC DOCTRINE OF PEACE 365
of his personality and his keen statesmanly insight to
further both causes. Indeed, his whole life may be regarded
as an attempt to establish the two fundamental plebeian
doctrines as the cornerstones of the Israelitish Common-
wealth.
Apparently he was raised in the temple of Shiloh, as a
Nazirite, who had been dedicated to God by his mother.
When the temple of Shiloh was destroyed, he undertook to
establish a new sanctuary for his tribe in Ramah. Such,
however, was the prestige which he ultimately attained that
he was called from time to time to preside also over the
more ancient sanctuaries of Mizpah, Beth-el, and even
Gilgal.^® When his sons — ^named Abijah, “YHWH is my
father” and Joel, “YHWH is God” — became old enough for
priestly service, he placed them in the shrine of Beer-
sheba, in the coastal plain.**^ His influence thus extended
through a large part of the country.
While the Israelites, and particularly the tribe of
Ephraim, remembered the crushing defeat they had suffered
at Aphek, Samuel was their ideal leader. He brought them
the inspiration of the God of their fathers, taught them to
resist the Baal worship, and discouraged them from under-
taking any wars even against their conquerors. But as he
grew old, the seer discovered that a new generation had
arisen about him, who refused to resign themselves to
subjection to the Philistines. They listened with impatience
to the seer’s pacific doctrines.*® So long as the Philistine
governor ruled in Gibeah they would have nothing to do
with the acceptance of the status quo. They considered
the disaster which had befallen their people a direct result
of disunion, and called for the organization of the Hebrew
tribes under a military, rather than a religious, leader.
i66
THE PHARISEES
How far Samuel himself shared this feeling, it is impos-
lible to say. The later of the two accounts of his activity,
ieclares that he opposed the movement to appoint a King,
But it is altogether probable, as has been maintained, that
his tradition originated in circles which in subsequent
fenerations looked back on the period of the Judges as a
jolden Age, and considered the establishment of Israelite
■oyalty a national misfortune.
Either, then, of his own initiative or driven by the
brce of public opinion, Samuel decided to seek a king to
mify the Israelite tribes.*^ With unusual adroitness, he
lelected for the office not a fellow-tribesman, but a
Benjaminite, a young warrior, who was a working farmer,
lot a patrician, and was definitely a member of the YHWH-
bllowing.®® Such a person, Samuel must have felt certain,
vould insure the continued loyalty of the newly created
;tate to the God of the fathers.
The appointment of a King over a united Israel®* was the
note significant because it ran counter to the Canaanite
:endency of the period, which was to substitute oligarchy
or monarchy, and independent city states for federated
governments.
It is altogether probable that Samuel, having made his
:hoice, confided his decision to Saul. At any rate, when
he opportunity came, Saul was ready to seize it. The
Ammonites attacked the city of Jabesh-gilead in Trans-
ordan; and its inhabitants appealed to their brethren
hroughout Israel for aid. When the call came to Saul, he
mmediately announced his readiness to respond, and sent
i summons for help to all the tribes. An army gathered
ibout him, they crossed the Jordan, dealt the Ammonites a
ORIGIN OF PROPHETIC DOCTRINE OF PEACE 367
crushing defeat, and returned triumphantly to announce
Saul as the new King.
As has already been observed, Saul’s first act showed
Samuel that he had made a mistake in his choice;®^ the new
King chose the patrician shrine of Gilgal®* as the place of
his anointment, and did not even await Samuel’s coming to
inaugurate the sacrifice. There was no time for recrimi-
nation, however; the Philistines, hearing of the appointment
of an Israelite King, were preparing to make battle against
them. A fortunate chance gave Saul and his son, Jehonathan,
another victory over the enemies of their people; and fully
established the new kingdom.®^
But it was soon obvious that Saul’s choice of Gilgal as
the shrine for anointment was no accidental error of judg-
ment. The highland peasant was determined to please the
patricians and to follow their policies, in order that he
might win their recognition. He signalized his conversion
to the patrician cause, by openly announcing his adherence
to the Baal, the lowland agricultural God, whose very
name was anathema to the prophets. He had called his first
son, born before his accession to the throne, Jehonathan,
“YHWH hath given”; but the two youngest, princes from
the cradle, were named Ishbaal,®® “the man of Baal,” and
Merib-baal (II Sam. 21.8), a name which was also given to
Jehonathan’s son (ibid. 4.4; 9.6).®®
This was not all. Rejecting the whole of Samuel’s
doctrine of non-aggression, Saul slew many of the Gibeonites,
a native people with whom the Israelites had an ancient
treaty, and confiscated the Gibeonite lands for himself and
his fellow-Benjaminites.®'^ Then, having freed the country of
the Philistine yoke, he pursued the enemy into their own
territory, obtaining further estates for his retainers. As a
368
THE PHARISEES
result of these activities Gibeon became the center of the
Benjaminite highland territory, while its lowland section
extended far into the shefelah. Like many other con-
querors, the Benjaminites transferred to their new lowland
estates the names of the villages from which they had
come, and have thus perpetuated the record of their raid
on the Philistines.**
These unexpected developments took Samuel by surprise;
yet he was unwilling to admit that he had committed an
error. He continued his efforts to win the King back to the
plebeian prophetic cause; and sometimes Samuel appeared to
be making headway. Saul agreed to suppress the necroman-
cers, although he himself believed in their power (I Sam.
28.9). And finally he was even persuaded to desist from his
war against the Philistines, and to undertake an expedition
against the Amalekite nomads who were harassing the
Judaite shepherds. The King and the prophet both in-
tended, doubtless, to utilize this occasion to renew the
alliance between the throne and the prophetic following, in
general, and the tribe of Judah, in particular.*® The event,
however, proved Saul’s undoing. He was completely
victorious over the Amalekites, it is true. But his inability
to understand Samuel’s point of view regarding the war
created a permanent breach between the two men. Samuel
considered the expedition against the Amalekites not a
war of conquest, like those which Saul had undertaken
against the Philistines, but “a war of the Lord” to pro-
tect His people from unjust attack. The booty taken in
such a struggle was holy; to use it for profane purposes
was a sacrilege. It was herem, tabu, fit only for destruction
“before the Lord.”^® Such wanton annihilation of booty
was entirely in accord with the prophetic spirit, which
ORIGIN OF PROPHETIC DOCTRINE OF PEACE 369
feared enrichment even more than war, but it was quite
foreign to the mentality of Saul. Blind to this conception
of the battle, the King seized the possessions of the
Amalekites, and divided them among his men, reserving
only a few as hecatombs for the Lord.
Samuel’s dismay when he heard of these proceedings can
hardly be exaggerated. The King had once more violated
his trust; but this time more shamelessly than ever before.
He had undertaken the expedition against the Amalekites
at the instance of Samuel; he had used it to wean the Judaite
shepherds away from Samuel’s doctrines. By offering the
people part of the booty which had been taken from the
Philistines, he had dramatically demonstrated the real
significance of a war of conquest, and had endeavored,
at least, to make them less willing to listen to the prophetic
teachings of self-abnegation.
It is only when we realize the enormity of Saul’s betrayal
that we can understand the vehemence of Samuel’s anger.
The prophet who had patiently borne Saul’s adoption of
the patrician militaristic policies, his conversion to Baal,
and his expansionist wars in Philistia, was outraged when
the “holy war” was made an occasion for forbidden enrich-
ment. Samuel had intended his herem to be a suppression
of what we might call “war profits” — a faltering, and
primitive, if cruel, step toward ultimate pacifism; he could
not endure the frustration of the effort.
It was probably soon after this incident that Saul realized
the futility of his efforts to establish a permanent dynasty
in Israel. He had lost the support of the prophetic group;
the patricians were his masters, not his servants. Able
general as he was and, in some respects, astute leader, he
was altogether inadequate for the task to which he had
370
THE PHARISEES
been called. Perhaps no one could have succeeded better.
The establishment of a throne among powerful patrician
leaders, who had become accustomed to oligarchic rule,
required genius of the rarest order. But Saul was singularly
lacking in the basic elements of character necessary for
even partial achievement of his aims. He had no gift for
political organization or for appeal to mass enthusiasm.
The people admired him and were grateful to him; he did
not know how to make them love him. The consciousness
of his failure, joined to the anxieties of office, threw the
former peasant into despondency.
To brighten his melancholy, young David was brought
to Court. He was a member of the powerful family of
Jesse of Bethlehem, Judah, and may have been sent as a
pledge of the tribe’s loyalty. From the first David captivated
all who came in contact with him. He soothed the king’s
temper; became the most intimate friend of Jonathan, the
heir apparent; and won the love of Michal, one of the
princesses.** Saul, however, was not destined to enjoy his
company long. The young man’s military skill and courage
amazed his elders; and the King soon realized that the
pleasing minstrel might readily become a dangerous rival.
The plebeian shepherds of the Judaite highlands were far
from contented with Saul’s rule; what more natural than
that they should try to place their own tribesman on the
throne of Israel, or at least to secede under his leadership
from the Israelite federation?
The sequel is well known. Suspicion created the evil it
feared. Saul made an attempt on David’s life; David
fled to the wilderness of Judah, where he became the leader
of an outlaw band; the King, infuriated by this develop-
ment, seized Ahimelech, the priest of Nob, who had given
ORIGIN OF PROPHETIC DOCTRINE OF PEACE 371
David some food during his flight, and slaughtered Ahimelech
and all his fellow-priests; Ebiathar, the son of the martyred
Ahimelech, naturally fled to David for refuge, giving the
outlaw the prestige of ecclesiastical sanction. David’s own
tribesmen, the Judaites, however, far from sympathizing
with him, resented his exactions and tried to betray him to
the King; one of the few rich landowners of the neighbor-
hood, Nabal, actually resisted David’s demands. Nabal
would have paid with his life for this temerity, had not
Abigail, his courageous, quick-thinking wife, realized their
danger and hastened to appease the outlaws with suitable
gifts. When shortly thereafter her husband died, she became
David’s wife, bringing him sufiicient property to make him
a patrician in his own right. Nevertheless, fearing Saul
more than ever, David had to flee from the land and seek
shelter with the Philistines, the traditional enemies of his
people.
Meanwhile, Saul, freed from the restraining influence of
Samuel, had given himself over entirely to an anti-Philistine,
expansionist, patrician policy. The protracted struggle
culminated in a second battle at Aphek, and once again
Israel met with a crushing defeat. Saul and three of his
sons were killed; the Israelitish army was driven back into
the valley of Jezreel and even across the Jordan. The
efforts of a lifetime had been wasted; Israel was once more
vassal to the Philistines.
Fortunately for David, the Philistine generals had
declined to permit him to participate in the battle, and
had thus saved him from choosing between treason to his
people and betrayal of his hosts. When the war was over,
he was free to accept the kingship of the tribe of Judah,
which was at once offered him. Apparently even the
372
THE PHARISEES
patricians of that tribe, who had resented his exactions as
an outlaw, saw that he had become too powerful to resist
and that it was better to have him as friend than as enemy.
The rest of the tribes were under the direct rule of the
Philistines, who appointed a governor with his home in
Gibeah, Saul’s capital. Only across the Jordan, did Abner,
Saul’s general, manage to set up a petty government for
his master’s sole remaining son, Ishbaal.
Both Ishbaal and David were, of course, vassals of the
Philistines, who permitted them to reign, because they
preferred a divided to a united Israel. The Philistines did
not even interfere when Abner and his army crossed the
Jordan and invested Gibeon, in the territory of Benjamin,
where many of the exiled Benjaminites had their estates.
David, however, who had been hoping to establish his rule
over all Cisjordan, at once sent his army against Abner.
David’s followers were victorious and the kingdom of
Ishbaal remained limited to the small territory across the
Jordan.
The patrician leaders of Benjamin, Ephraim, and the
other agricultural tribes to the north were now placed in a
dilemma. To accept as their King the former Judaite
shepherd, who had made war against Saul, become a leader
of brigands, and entered into an alliance with the Philistines,
was certainly humiliating. But there was only one alter-
native: continued vassalage to the Philistines. There was no
possibility of breaking the Philistine yoke without David’s
help. There was no other military leader who could match
his ability; and the cooperation of the Judaites, whom he
controlled, was essential to any important warlike
undertaking.
One man was especially disturbed by the situation:
ORIGIN OF PROPHETIC DOCTRINE OF PEACE 373
Abner, Saul’s cousin, and former general of the Israelitish
army. His personal relationship to Ishbaal, his resentment
of David’s activities, and his sentimental attachment to the
memory of Saul made the acceptance of the Judaite King
particularly difficult for Abner. Yet two private considera-
tions moved him, more than anyone else, to seek unity and
peace: his desire to return to his estates in the land of
Benjamin, and his ambition to regain the command of a
united Israelitish army. If only he could bring himself to
support David’s claim to the throne, he could certainly
obtain as a reward his old office — the second most
distinguished in the kingdom. Indeed, David could find no
better way of assuring the loyalty of Saul’s former followers,
and the northern tribes in general, than by offering this
important place in the government to one who represented
them.
The tension of this inner conflict between loyalty and
ambition made Abner morose and irritable. His anger
burst into fury, however, when Ishbaal upbraided him for
having taken one of Saul’s concubines. Throughout the
east, such an act was considered seditious. But Ishbaal
could hardly afford to alienate Abner, whose creature he
was. The trivial incident decided his fate. Abner entered
into negotiations with David and became intermediary
between him and the northern patricians.
Abner had, however, left out of account the one person
who, after David, was most concerned with these plans —
the nephew and general-in-chief of the Judaite King, Joab, a
man equally distinguished by almost Odyssean craft and
boldness and total lack of scruple. Though nothing was told
Joab of the purpose of Abner’s visit, he had little difficulty in
penetrating its meaning and was determined to defend
374
THE PHARISEES
himself at all costs. As Abner left David on his way to
complete the arrangement with the heads of the northern
tribes, Joab waylaid and murdered him, on the pretext that
he had slain Asael, Joab’s brother, in one of the battles
between the followers of Ishbaal and David.
The death of Abner was as fatal to Ishbaal as his con-
tinued life might have been. Not only did David recite a
moving eulogy over the fallen general, but he observed
personal mourning for him as for a near relative. “So all
the people, and all Israel understood that day that it was
not of the king to slay Abner the son of Ner” (II Sam. 3.37).
David’s position with the patricians of Israel was thus not
at all weakened. On the contrary, everybody realized that
with Abner dead, Ishbaal could not long retain the rule of
his kingdom.
Within a short time, two ambitious Benjaminites, seeking
David’s favor, crossed the Jordan, entered Ishbaal’s room,
and murdered him. When they brought his head to David,
expecting a reward, he greeted them with furious anger and
ordered them executed. Nevertheless, the event brought
the tribes of Israel to his feet. Utterly leaderless, their
elders came to Hebron and proclaimed him king of the
united nation.
The new King was Saul’s equal in personal strength,
courage and attractiveness. In addition he was a sweet
singer and a gifted poet. But above all he was a rare strat-
egist, an able general, a clever administrator, with a shrewd
understanding of the popular mind, as well as a deep affec-
tion for the masses, and democratic pleasure in mingling
with them. His intuitive tact proved invaluable to him in
the early days when the question of his succession hung in
the balance. The message he sent to the men of Jabesh-
ORIGIN OF PROPHETIC DOCTRINE OF PEACE 375
gilead, thanking them for their piety, when they risked
their lives to give burial to the bodies of Saul and his
children; his mourning for Saul and then for Abner; his
punishment of Ishbaal’s assassins, won the hearts of all his
subjects. It would be absurd to condemn these acts as
mere hypocrisy. So masterful and moving a poem as the
elegy over Saul and Jonathan, which most scholars accept
as genuine,® could hardly be the product of dissimulation
and pretended emotion. The truth is, doubtless, that
David was a man of both deep feeling and unusual histrionic
powers. Perhaps he himself could not have told how much
of his grief for Saul was genuine, and how much intended
“for effect.” But whatever their psychological origin, his
actions had the desired result — they brought him to the
throne of a united people.
He achieved the union not merely of the tribes but also
of the classes within them. The prophetic party hailed him
as its own true son, the descendant of the shepherd clans,
the opponent of the renegade Saul. The patricians saw in
David a deliverer from the yoke of the oppressing Philistine.
What his policy would be when the yoke was removed and
the time for further conquest came, no one asked for the
moment.
But David was not at all deceived by this acclaim. His
native insight was supplemented by the valuable experience
he had gained in the court of Saul and as leader of an
outlaw band. He knew that the patricians had used Saul
to advance their own interests; and David realized that they
had accepted him as the lesser of two evils. If his kingdom
was to be established, he needed a new patricianship — one
of his own creation. He could achieve this aim only through
the development of the commerce of Jerusalem, enriching
376
THE PHARISEES
some of the plebeians who became its traders.^® This policy
both he and his son, Solomon, pursued throughout their
reigns.
In other simpler respects, David, too, favored the
plebeians. He was utterly democratic, mingling freely with
his subjects in their festivities, deigning even to don a
light linen tunic, barely concealing the body, such as other
celebrants wore on festive occasions. His closest friends
were chosen from among the prophets; indeed, Nathan, the
prophet, was apparently one of his chief counselors. David
restored the Ark of the Lord to its ancient position of prom-
inence; desisted from the erection of a formal temple
when the prophet opposed the plan and declared his pref-
erence for the traditional tent-sanctuary;^^ his first children
after his accession to the throne were named Abishalom,
“My father is peace”; Adonijah, “YHWH is my Lord”; and
Shefatiah, “YHWH is judge.”«
Curiously the ease with which people approached David
won him their love without losing him their respect. During
the many years of his leadership of an outlaw band, he had
mastered the technique of gaining both veneration and
affection; of being democratic and at the same time com-
manding obedience. His wife, Michal, the daughter of
Saul, could not, however, understand this. She reproved
him for what she considered lack of princely dignity, only
to receive the sharp rejoinder: “Before the Lord, who
chose me above thy father, and above all his house, to
appoint me prince over the people of the Lord, over Israel,
before the Lord will I make merry. And I will be yet more
vile than thus, and will be base in mine own sight; and with
the handmaids whom thou hast spoken of, with them will
I get me honour” (II Sam. 6.21).
ORIGIN OF PROPHETIC DOCTRINE OF PEACE 377
Ebiathar, who had shared his sufferings and dangers for
so many years, was elevated to the priesthood. But David
was far too wary a king to entrust the highest ecclesiastical
office to one person and to permit the establishment of a
priestly dynasty which might rival his own. The priestly
honors were divided between Ebiathar, Zadok, and finally
also the “sons of David.”^®
His first problem was naturally the liberation of the land
from the Philistines. When this had been accomplished,^^ he
broke completely with the patricians who had controlled
Saul. The King treated the Canaanites, whose lands the aris-
tocrats coveted, with remarkable leniency, and yielded to
the demand of the Gibeonites for seven members of Saul’s
family, whom they executed in vengeance for the evil that
late king had done them (II Sam. 21.1 ff.). When he con-
quered the Jebusites, he permitted them to retain their
lands, and even insisted on paying for the plot which he
needed for his proposed sanctuary (ibid. 24.24). He
apparently adopted the policy which had become traditional
among the southern tribes, Judah and Simeon, of relying
on assimilation to solve the problem of the antagonism
between Israelites and natives.'*®
His relations with the Tyrians were especially friendly.
He hired their artisans to build his cedar palace, and
planned, doubtless, to rely on them in the erection of his
sanctuary, had that proposal been carried out. There was
no reason for conflict with this people. He could not com-
pete for their sea-trade; and, on the other hand, he needed
their help in obtaining foreign markets for the products of
his country.
Yet David was not a true follower of prophecy.'*® He
had no real love for peace and the simple life. His policy
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THE PHARISEES
toward the Canaanites and the Philistines was dictated by
a definitely mundane consideration, namely his desire to
defeat the patricians through the establishment of a
dominating trading community in his capital.
From some points of view, he might have preferred to
establish his capital nearer the center of the country than
Jerusalem was. But it was essential to his plans that he
remain near the tribe of Judah, on whose loyalty he thought
he could depend. The boundary between that tribe and
Benjamin was thus the northern limit to which he could
go. On the other hand, except for its geographical eccentri-
city, Jerusalem was admirably well placed for the capital
of the Kingdom. It was an almost impregnable fortress; its
climate was temperate and salubrious; it had an ancient
tradition as a sacred city; it had been newly conquered,
and thus belonged to none of the tribes. It lacked but one
necessity, water. But, of course, David could not have
anticipated the brilliant future which awaited his capital^
and the enormous population it would have to maintain
from the few springs and cisterns with which it was
provided.
In order to establish Jerusalem and its commercial
groups on a firm basis, David resorted to conquests — not,
however, in Philistia, but in Transjordan, where he could
obtain an abundance of copper, and where he could
seize the great desert trade routes. Both the Arabah and
Aram-zobah were famous for their mines, and control of
them was essential for the commercial revolution which the
king projected. The seizure of the Arabah was necessary
to open the road to the Gulf of Akaba, with the possibil-
ity of developing a southern sea-trade.
Following this policy, David seized on various pretexts
ORIGIN OF PROPHETIC DOCTRINE OF PEACE 379
to make war on all the Transjordanian nations. Whether
it be true that the King of Ammon was mad enough to
insult the messengers whom David had sent to him to
express sympathy on the death of his father, we can no
longer tell (II Sam. 10.1 if.). Perhaps they were instructed
to make suggestions to the new King which provoked his
resentment and insulting treatment. At any rate, David
lost no time in using the supposed affront as an occasion
for war and reducing Ammon to a province of Israel. The
same policy was followed with regard to the Edomites, the
Moabites, and the people of Aram-zobah. Even Damascus
was conquered, and placed under the control of an Israelite
governor (ibid. 8.6).
The tribute exacted from these defeated peoples
enriched the national treasury and built up the commercial
prestige of Jerusalem. The old patrician group obtained
nothing, and neither did the plebeians. Only those who
settled in Jerusalem received any reward at all; they found
a new opportunity for work and trade in the growing city.
The disciples of Samuel did not at once realize the full
significance of David’s activity. The change from the
older policy of patrician aggressiveness to the newer policy
of commercial expansion had been too abrupt. They
doubtless considered the attack on Edom unjustified, and
could only point to the ancient tradition which describes
Esau as a bluff, but good brother, as a reason for leaving
his descendants in peace. Esau had had Jacob at his mercy,
and yet had spared him (Gen. 33.4 ff.); would it not be-
hoove Israel to act with similar generosity toward Esau’s
descendants? Lot, the ancestor of Ammon and Moab,,
had parted from Abraham in great friendship (ibid. 13.11)
and was a man of fine, hospitable instincts (ibid. 19.1 flF.),
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THE PHARISEES
in spite of his crude manners. The Arameans were of
Abraham’s family; Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, had sought
their wives among them.
Yet these suggestions did not take the form of any strong
protest against the Davidic policy. The plebeians saw that
their opponents, the patricians, were not growing in
strength, and waited for the result of David’s activity before
rendering final judgment.
But the patricians, both of Judah and of the other tribes,
were under no illusions regarding the probable outcome of
David’s wars. They had carried a heavy burden during
the wars, supplying men and means, but they had received
nothing in return. The number of their slaves did not
increase, their estates were not extended, the patricians
were in no way enriched.
The dissatisfaction which resulted from this new policy
would alone have shaken David’s throne. Combined with
it, however, was a graver peril arising from his own family,
for David’s excellence in every aspect of public life was
outweighed by his weakness as a father. The sordid tale
of his unfortunate family life has been immortalized in the
remarkably objective, yet profoundly moving history con-
tained in the Second Book of Samuel. Amnon, David’s
oldest son and his heir-apparent, inheriting his father’s
passionate nature, had violated Tamar, his half-sister.
Her shame had been avenged by Absalom, who was her
full brother, and incidentally was next to Amnon in the
line of succession. Fearing David’s wrath, Absalom fled,
but ultimately returned, and was forgiven. Realizing,
however, that David would probably not permit him to
inherit the throne, the wily young man undertook to seize
ORIGIN OF PROPHETIC DOCTRINE OF PEACE 381
it by force. He easily won the ear of the dissatisfied
patricians, both of Judah and the other tribes, and when he
announced himself as King in Hebron, the ancient capital
of Judah, he had a sufficiently large following to drive
David from Jerusalem. The King, however, escaped across
the Jordan, where his policy had won all of Saul’s former
friends over to his side. When Absalom pursued him, a
battle resulted in which the prince was killed and his army
defeated.
This did not, however, end the resistance to David.
The patricians of the various tribes, left without a candi-
date for the throne, were still unprepared to submit to the
King. Only after prolonged negotiations in which David
appealed to his blood kinship with the Judaites, and prom-
ised Amasa, who had been the leader of the rebel armies,
the chief generalship in place of Joab, was David able to
return to Jerusalem.
Yet the North remained unreconciled. Sheba, son of
Bichri, a Benjaminite, proposed that the kingship be
abolished altogether and the earlier tribal amphictyony
reestablished. “We have no portion in David,” he cried,
“neither have we inheritance in the son of Jesse; every
man to his tents, 0 Israel” (II Sam. 20.1). David, keeping
his promise, sent Amasa out to gather an army against
Sheba. Whether through negligence or inability, Amasa was
delayed, and David was compelled to turn for aid to his
nephew Abishai, the brother of Joab. Abishai and Joab
came up with Amasa in Gibeon, slew him, and taking
charge of the army pursued the rebels. Finally Sheba was
entrapped in the city of Abel of Beth-maacah, where he
was slain.
382
THE PHARISEES
So completely had the rebels been vanquished that when
David died, a short time later, the kingship passed to his
son, Solomon, without any difficulty.
Solomon lacked David’s military skill, and Benaiah ben
Jehoiada, who was his general-in-chief, was no substitute
for Joab. Not only were they unable to enhance the Davidic
empire, they could not even hold it together. One of the
vassals of the King of Zobah, whom David had conquered,
had fled to the desert and become a bandit leader. He now
conquered Damascus and established a kingdom there
which was to rival, and at times to control, that of Israel.
Hadad the Edomite, who had fled to Egypt when David
seized his country, returned and gained control of the
mountains with their rich copper mines; only the valley of
the Arabah with its port at Ezion-geber remained under
the control of the Israelites.
In spite of these losses, the domain over which Solomon
ruled was extensive, and he was able to pursue David’s
mercantile policies further and actually to establish
Jerusalem as a great trading center. The annual income of
his government is put at no less than six hundred and sixty
talents of gold, the equivalent in weight of about thirty-five
millions of dollars (1935). Even if this figure represents not
the average, but an unusually prosperous year, it still
indicates an extraordinary change in Palestinian economy
since the days of Saul. The country had ceased to be purely
agricultural and pastoral; it had become largely commercial.
The expanding trade required new capital; and in order
to obtain this, Solomon sold a strip of land in Galilee to
the Phoenicians for one hundred and twenty talents of
gold (a little more than six millions of dollars). With these
moneys, he could undertake the vast building operations
ORIGIN OF PROPHETIC DOCTRINE OF PEACE 383
which made his reign so memorable: the royal palace and
the Temple in Jerusalem, the fortifications of Beth-horon
and Gezer, as well as those of the capital, and the stables
for his horses in Lachish, Gezer, Megiddo, and Taanach.
These activities could not, however, be maintained
merely through the profits of foreign trade and the sale of
a strip of land. Heavy taxes were laid on the people, and
large numbers of them were drafted for labor in the quarries
and in the timberland. The men put in charge of the corvee
and the collection of taxes were frequently plebeians. We
know that at least one, Jeroboam, who was in charge of the
Ephraimite corvee, was the son of a poor widow, who
began his governmental service as a laborer in the forti-
fications of Jerusalem (I Kings 11.26). Solomon recognized
his ability and appointed him overseer of all the workers of
his tribe. It is significant, doubtless, that most of the
governors of the various districts are called by patronymics
rather than by their personal names (ibid. 4.9 ff.). It is
clear that Solomon was consciously carrying out the plans
which David had laid for the establishment of a new
metropolitan officialdom, raised from the plebeian groups.*®
Solomon’s many marriages were intended to confirm
treaty arrangements and to stimulate trade. That he had
to permit these foreign princesses to worship their own gods
was a light matter with the new King, who apparently did
not hesitate even to worship Melkart, the god of Tyre,
when he visited that city (ibid. 11.5).
By the end of Solomon’s reign, Jerusalem controlled
Judah and the South. The new aristocracy was sufficiently
powerful to prevent the older patricians from rebelling
against Solomon or his successor, as their ancestors under
Absalom had rebelled against David. But the metropolis of
384
THE PHARISEES
the south could not control the northern tribes, where the
patricians were all-powerful and dissatisfied. Forced labor,
heavy taxes, and the centralization of government were
innovations which brought them no benefit. The splendor
of Solomon’s capital interested the former oligarchs but
little; they were keenly aware, however, of the sacrifices
which they had to make to maintain it.
Joined with them in opposition to the new economy were
plebeians of the hill country. They were as opposed to
Solomon’s luxurious buildings as they had been to those of
the earlier patricians. The importation of horses still
seemed to the plebeians unforgivable apostasy.®^ When
in addition Solomon permitted his wives to conduct
heathen worship in Jerusalem, the plebeians were amazed.
It did not occur to them that this was part of international
courtesy; their God was a jealous God who could not brook
idol worship. Thus the building of the Temple, far from
winning the plebeian YHWH worshipers to Solomon, ac-
tually estranged them from him,
The truth was, of course, that Solomon’s mercantile
patricianship was fully as assimilationist, opportunist and
militarist (when that policy paid) as the old agricultural
oligarchy had been. There was only this difference; the
horizons of the new nobility were wider. Instead of adopting
the manners of the neighboring Canaanites, they went for
their patterns to distant Tyre, Egypt, and Mesopotamia.
The plebeians realized at last that they had been deceived.
What many of them had considered the acceptance of their
policy of the simple life, was far more dangerous than the
older patrician policy had been. Whatever might have been
true of David, who had already become an almost legendary
figure, Solomon was as ambitious for increased wealth and
ORIGIN OF PROPHETIC DOCTRINE OF PEACE 385
power as any anti-Philistine, patrician landowner had ever
been. The period of the Judges, with all its chaos, dis-
organization, tribal power, and patrician leadership, now
appeared to have been a golden age. The establishment of
the Kingdom seemed an error, and it was generally asserted
that Samuel had acquiesced in it under compulsion and
against his better judgment.^
Discontent led to sedition even during Solomon’s lifetime.
Jeroboam son of Nebat, whom the King had raised from
the ranks to the command of the Ephraimitic corvee,
rebelled, and received the support of Ahijah of Shiloh, an
Ephraimitic prophet. Solomon’s quick action prevented the
rebellion from making any headway, and Jeroboam had to
flee to Egypt. When, however, the King died, the oppo-
sition to the Davidic dynasty and its policy expressed
itself more forcefully. An assembly of the northern tribes
gathered at Shechem, one of their most ancient sanctuaries,
and fixed the terms on which, alone, they would accept
Rehoboam, the son of Solomon, as their King. Rehoboam,
badly advised, refused to make any concessions, and the
Assembly, instead of ratifying his appointment, rejected
him utterly. “What portion have we in David!” they
cried, echoing the words of Sheba son of Bichri, “neither
have we inheritance in the son of Jesse; to your tents,
O Israel; now see to thine own house, David” (I Kings
12.16). These words imply a determination to return to the
oligarchic tribal government of the period of the Judges,
and doubtless that was in the minds of the rebels. But
Jeroboam, hearing of the unrest, returned from Egypt and
managed to obtain his election as King of the northern
tribes. Judah, and the tribe of Simeon which had practi-
cally merged with it, remained loyal to Rehoboam.
386
THE PHARISEES
Neither of the two kingdoms could carry on the imperial-
istic activity of David and Solomon. Judah, which con-
tained the growing metropolis of Jerusalem, was too small
and too poor. In territory it was about a third that of the
northern kingdom; the disproportion in wealth and fertility
was even greater. A large part of the country was covered
by arid desert and by stony highlands which were scarcely
more fertile. There was no possibility that the tiny state
would be able to hold David’s Transjordanian conquests in
subjection. Cut off from essential supplies of copper, which
it was receiving from these provinces, as well as from the
taxes and agricultural products which the northern hinter-
land was providing, the metropolis of David and Solomon
could remain nothing more than an overgrown village, far
too large for the state it controlled.
The northern kingdom was almost equally impotent. It
had not yet risen out of the agricultural civilization which
had been typical of all Israel but two generations earlier.
The commercial revolution of David and Solomon, which
had built up the metropolis of Jerusalem with its urban
life, had affected the outlying districts only by increasing
their burdens of government. In addition, local and tribal
patriotism were powerful and were destined to defeat
every effort to establish a permanent national throne. At
best the new King, like Saul before him, could be only a
puppet in the hands of the tribal patricians.
Once more the plebeian prophets who, in their anger at
David’s imperialism had fomented the rebellion, discovered
that they had only exchanged one set of opportunist masters
for another. Their fear of Solomonic luxury had been
founded on sound intuition; but the results of the rebellion
were bound to be disastrous from their point of view.
ORIGIN OF PROPHETIC DOCTRINE OF PEACE 387
Jeroboam’s first acts showed that he had broken with them
and that Ahijah’s fate was to resemble that of Samuel.
Violating all the principles of prophetic religion and suc-
cumbing entirely to the influence of patrician assimilation,
the new King set up golden bullocks as representations of
God in the shrines of Beth-el and Dan.®* He rebuilt the
ancient Canaanite sanctuary in Shechem on a more
elaborate basis and apparently established there also a
visible image of God.®^
His foreign policy was equally patrician. He turned his
back on Transjordan with its copper mines, and resumed
the war against the Philistines which had been interrupted
for two generations.
A touching incident proves that at heart Jeroboam was
still a follower of the prophets, and that his anti-prophetic
activity was not of his own choosing. When his son fell ill,
he sent his wife in disguise to consult the prophet who had
first stimulated his ambition, Ahijah of Shiloh. That stern
moralist recognized the poor Queen and predicted the
child’s death, which occurred even before she could return
home (I Kings 14.2 ff.).
The division of the kingdom involved not merely
apostasy, but subjection and vassalage. The Egyptians,
who had controlled Palestine before the advent of the
Israelites, had watched the progress of David’s empire
with increasing irritation and hunger for control. Although
Solomon was related to their court by marriage, they had
ofiFered asylum to his enemies; and when the tribes quarreled
among themselves, Sosenk, the King of the Nile country,
immediately invaded Palestine. Judah could offer no
resistance whatever; Sosenk entered its capital, robbing it
of the treasures which Solomon had accumulated in the.
388
THE PHARISEES
palace and in the sanctuary. Jeroboam, who undertook to
defend himself, met with a worse fate. He was driven
across the plain of Jezreel into Transjordan, and even there
was given no rest. Sosenk crossed the river after him and
captured Mahanaim, where Ishbaal had found safety from
the Philistines, and David from Absalom. Thereafter,
Israel became tributary to Egypt.®®
No sooner had he made terms of peace with Sosenk, than
Jeroboam, weakened as his army and people were, resumed
the struggle for the conquest of Philistia. His efforts were
in vain; he died in the midst of the war. His son, Nadab,
who succeeded to the throne was equally unsuccessful; and
now the restive, defeated army began to blame the home
government for its failure. Baasa, the general at the front,
taking advantage of the disaffection, declared a revolt, and
became king in Nadab ’s stead (ibid. 15.27).
Realizing that war against the Philistines would be futile,
the new King sought more ready, though less valuable
prey, in Judah. He would have succeeded in conquering
the tiny land, had not Asa, King of Judah, appealed to
Ben-hadad, King of Damascus, to declare war against
Israel. Ben-hadad attacked Baasa’s realm from the north
and compelled him to desist from further attacks on Judah.
Thwarted in this effort against the southern state, Baasa
apparently returned to the Philistines. His son Elah, who
continued the struggle, was killed after a reign of but two
years by Zimri, a captain to whom he had entrusted half
his chariots. With the army encamped against the
Philistines, however, such a palace revolution was not likely
to succeed. Within a week of Zimri’s revolt, the army
declared itself in favor of its general, Omri. Zimri, seeing
no hope for success against this formidable enemy, committed
ORIGIN or PROPHETIC DOCTRINE OF PEACE 389
suicide. Nevertheless, the opposition to the control of the
army, which consisted, primarily, of the smaller landowners,
continued; the courtiers declared themselves in favor of a
certain Tibni, son of Ginath. The conflict between the
candidates continued for a time; though Omri had the
advantage of numbers, Tibni had that of prestige. Before
the issue could be settled in battle, Tibni died. Omri be-
came the undisputed master of the Kingdom (I Kings
16.9 fi".); and opened a new era in the history of Israel.
XVII. THE DOCTRINE OF PEACE AND
THE PROPHETIC MOVEMENT
That Israel entered on a new stage in its career in the
reigns of Omri and his son, Ahab, was recognized both by
foreign observers, who continued to call the land mat Omri
(Omri’s country) even after he died, and the native historian,
who describes Ahab’s reign with unique fullness and detail.
Certainly the two kings were among the ablest who were
called to the throne of Israel. Imitating the policy of David,
Omri, the plebeian, was determined to establish a metro-
politan capital as a means for the perpetuation of his
dynasty, and acquired the Mount of Samaria as the site for
the town (I Kings 16.24).
Military exploits, like those which David used to enrich
his capital, were, of course, impossible for Omri. Since
David’s time, the power of Aram had become consolidated,
and that of Israel had weakened. There was no possibility
of Omri’s acquiring the copper mines and trade routes
David had possessed, or seizing the tribute he had col-
lected. The only alternative was stimulation of trade with
the Phoenicians and Arameans; in order to do this, Omri
entered into treaty agreements with both of these foreign
powers, possibly even accepting vassalage to them. He
ceded to the Arameans valuable trading rights in Samaria,
in return, doubtless, for similar privileges which they gave
him elsewhere;^ and he certainly must have entered into an
exchange of goods with Tyre and Zidon.^
DOCTRINE OF PEACE AND PROPHETIC MOVEMENT 391
Ahab, his son and successor, was an even more clear-
sighted statesman and administrator. He adopted Omri’s
policies and carried them to their natural culmination; but
he realized that the development of a commercial metrop-
olis was not enough to ensure the throne. He needed the
loyal and devoted support of a definite class of the people
in his struggle against the landed patricians; like David, he
looked for this to the traders and artisans of the metrop-
olis, the backbone of the prophetic followers of YHWH.
He made one of them, Obadiah, “Servant of YHWH,” his
chief minister; he called his children by names which affirmed
his own loyalty to YHWH — Ahaziah, “YHWH has taken
hold”; Jehoram, “YHWH is all-high”; Athaliah, “YHWH
is exalted.” He stimulated the growth of the prophetic
schools, until there were literally hundreds of prophets of
YHWH in the land.
It is one of the most cruel and pathetic paradoxes in
history that this worshiper of YHWH and friend of the
prophets should be recorded in history as the worst of
apostates. His wise plans which, carried to fruition might
have made his dynasty invincible, were frustrated; and his
memory, which might have become one of the most revered
in Israel’s annals, was execrated, through the self-contra-
dictions in which he involved himself. Yet the rabbinic
sages, with their remarkable insight into such matters,
estimate him correctly; and in their legends portray him
in all his facets, his strength together with his weakness, his
faith together with his disloyalty.
Three factors combined to nullify Ahab’s good intentions:
his shameless opportunism, the character of his redoubtable
Queen, and the political exigencies which he himself created.
392
THE PHARISEES
His opportunism showed itself particularly in his relation to
the prophetic party. His convictions — feeble as they
were — were obviously sympathetic to prophecy. But he
would not become a devotee or adherent of the party. He
wanted to use it and not to be used by it. When he found
that his policies, far from strengthening the plebeians, rela-
tively weakened them, he did nothing to help them. He had
intended Samaria to be a refuge for the landless Gerim-, it
actually became a center for the powerful nobility. The
poor, who streamed into the capital and became its artisans
and small traders, did indeed find a crust of bread; the
Grossgrundbesitzer, who surrounded the Court and could
take advantage of the opportunities opened by the alliances
with Tyre and Samaria, reaped harvests of incalculably
greater revenue and power.
If Omri and Ahab actually thought of David’s Jerusalem
in making their plans for Samaria, they sadly under-
estimated the difference between the wealth which they had
to obtain through trade alone and that which David
acquired through tribute and conquest. The treasures
which flowed into Jerusalem from the copper mines in
Transjordan and the payments of the provinces, remained
in the national treasury and were used for public con-
struction. The money thus went into the hands of artisans,
craftsmen, and small traders. Solomon could make it his
business to see that the officers of the corvee were taken
from plebeian ranks. It was thus possible for him and his
father to create a new patricianship of recent origin. It was
quite otherwise in Samaria. Omri and Ahab had no large
funds at their disposal. The trade they stimulated had to
be carried on entirely by private entrepeneurs \ and the only
men who had the means to take advantage of these
DOCTRINE OF PEACE AND PROPHETIC MOVEMENT 393
opportunities were the richest landowners of the kingdom.
Hence it came about that the metropolitan policy which in
David’s day was the terror of the landowners and won
their opposition, was supported by the patricians of Ahab’s
time!
The increase of the patricians’ wealth had, however,
an even more disastrous effect than the widening of the
breach between them and the plebeians. It brought into
the country a new form of capital — that of money —
which had been practically unknown before. It is
altogether probable that this same result would have
followed ultimately even from the commercial revolution
as David and Solomon planned it. But under Omri and
Ahab it was inevitable. Their economic reforms were
based entirely on the development of foreign trade, which
meant the introduction of a basic form of exchange or
money. This development, however, opened the way to the
ruin of innumerable small landowners. In earlier times,
even the most desperate circumstances were unable to
divorce the peasant from his ancestral soil. A famine or a
drought might involve great suffering; the farmer might
see his animals perish, his wife sicken, his children die.
The simple economy of the land offered him no possible
remedy; but neither did it tempt him with any ignis fatuus,
luring him and his whole family to servitude and destruction.
He might borrow wheat or barley from a more fortunate
neighbor. But that happened rarely, and when it did
happen, he was expected to return the same amount of
produce in better times. The new economy of money
opened new avenues of escape — but also of destruction
for him. He could go into the city and borrow money with
which to obtain his supplies. To get these funds, he had to
394
THE PHARISEES
agree to mortgage his farm, which was his capital possession,
and frequently to pay high interest. Natural optimism led
him to believe that he could easily redeem his property the
next year. But frequently this hope was doomed to
frustration. Year after year passed; in the end the
mortgage on the farm was foreclosed and the peasant was
indeed fortunate if he was not sold into slavery for debt.®
The prophets of Ahab’s day realized the new danger and
raised a violent outcry against what seemed to them patent
injustice, although it was based on recognized forms of the
law. But Ahab made no move to help them. Perhaps he
thought that the patricians were too powerful to defeat;
perhaps he felt that a strong metropolis would become a
centralizing force in the kingdom, no matter how it was
controlled; perhaps a more recondite force was at work
preventing him from following his natural bent.
In his failure to deal with this difficult situation, Ahab
was, however, inviting catastrophe. He was driving the
small landowners, who were being threatened with loss of
property, into the arms of the prophetic opposition, and he
was carrying the class conflict from Samaria, where it
originated, into the hinterland which had never before
known it.
But perhaps a more important factor in solidifying the
opposition against Ahab was the religious apostasy which
he permitted the political situation and his wife to force
upon him. A vassal of Phoenicia, whose assistance was
essential to him in withstanding the even greater danger of
absorption by Aram, he necessarily set up temples to Baal,
Melkart and Astarte, the deities of his suzerain; and even
permitted his wife to persecute those who opposed the
DOCTRINE OF PEACE AND PROPHETIC MOVEMENT 395
innovations. No policy could have been fraught with
graver peril.
Many decades might have passed before the people,
generally, were aware of the results which flowed from
his political and economic opportunism. They might
even have forgiven him his departure from the rugged
simplicity of an earlier age, his erection of his magnificent
palace, and his establishment of an army containing no less
than two thousand horsemen. But they could not condone
the effort which he and his Queen made to establish the
gods of the Zidonians, as the supreme deities of Israel. No
one before him had dared commit such an obvious act of
national disloyalty; and it is certain that Ahab, too, would
have escaped the costly experiment had he not been under
the complete control of Jezebel.
How the King who proved himself so courageous in
battle, so shrewd in diplomacy, and so astute in government,
became so powerless in his household relations is still
an enigma. Was he another David, able to rule an empire,
but not his own family? Or was his wife a Cleopatra, whose
charm could break down even an Antony? Who was this
strange princess, the daughter of Ethbaal, King of the
Zidonians, who first displaced the Queen Mother, by law
and custom the First Lady of the land, and then usurped
also the prerogatives of her royal husband ? Whence did her
power flow — from misdirected genius, or from congenital
aberration? She slaughtered hundreds of prophets because
they opposed her, and even threatened the life of Elijah
himself; her daughter Athaliah, who resembled her so
closely, destroyed all but one member of Judah’s royal
family, and made herself Queen of that land for six years.
396
THE PHARISEES
Were mother and daughter both madwomen, glorying in
the sight of blood, in the infliction of pain, and in deeds of
horror? Or were they niormal women placed in peculiar
circumstances and endowed with unusual gifts? Were their
cruelty and ruthlessness a throwback to the age of Jael, that
Kenite lady who could murder a fleeing general in cold
blood? Or were they the heralds of a distant age, when
women were to be the equals of men, in fierceness as in
goodness ?
Difficult as it is to answer these questions, we cannot fail
to see in Jezebel certain lineaments which proclaim true
greatness, whether for good or for evil. Her calmness and
self-assurance, her determination and her courage, her
energy and her strength demand admiration. The bravery
which she displayed at that supreme moment when her
son’s assassin was approaching and she knew that her hour
had come, touch the heart of even the hostile historian.
“She painted her eyes,” we are told, “and attired her
head, and looked out at the window” (II Kings 9.30 ff.).
Old and gray as she was, and entirely at his mercy, she
fearlessly taunted him with the name of Israel’s most
despised traitor. “Is it peace, thou Zimri, thy master’s
murderer?” she cried.
In his fury, the victorious rebel ordered her thrown
down from the casements, and then rushed to forget
the scene in food and drink and revelry. It was futile.
Even as he sat at table, the stern face with the painted
eyes and well-attired hair which had looked out from
the palace window continued to haunt him. “Look now
after this cursed woman,” he cried, “and bury her; for
she is a king’s daughter.”
DOCTRINE OF PEACE AND PROPHETIC MOVEMENT 397
Throughout her life, when Ahab vacillated, she was
firm; when he compromised, she continued to struggle;
when he yielded, she cast him aside and took the reins
of government into her own hands. She had little sym-
pathy with his whimpering when, finding that the vine-
yard he coveted was not for sale, he came home and
childishly “laid him down upon his bed, and turned away
his face, and would eat no bread” (I Kings 21.4). “Dost
thou now govern the Kingdom of Israel ?” she cried. “Arise,
and eat bread, and let thy heart be merry; I will give thee
the vineyard of Naboth the Jezreelite.” And she was as
good as her word. She wrote letters in Ahab’s name, asking
the leaders of the community in which the unfortunate
Naboth lived to accuse him of apostasy and treason, and
to condemn him to death. This was done, and the property
was confiscated to the King. Ahab uttered no word of
remonstrance; but when the prophet appeared to upbraid him
for the double sin of murder and robbery, he “put sack-
cloth upon his flesh, and fasted, and lay in sackcloth, and
went softly” (21.27).
One man only, Jezebel could neither conquer nor intim-
idate — Elijah the Gileadite, the uncompromising exponent
of the prophetic traditions of the simple life and simple
worship. The sudden and unexpected appearance of this
strange man, fresh from his native provincial village of
Transjordan, on the stage of history has been depicted with
consummate skill by the writer of the Book of Kings.
The astonishment we feel when he breaks into the monot-
onous chronicle of kings and princes is intended to reflect,
in necessarily faint measure, the amazement of the , con-
temporary revelers of Samaria, the capital of the land,
398
THE PHARISEES
when they beheld in their midst, coming as from nowhere,
the leonine figure, threatening them with destruction.
Altogether naked, except for a covering of animal skin about
his loins, bronzed and almost blackened by exposure to the
sun and the elements, covered about his neck and chest
with long strands of hair which hung down from his chest
and beard, lithe, muscular, and athletic, he left a deep
impression on all who saw him. For a hundred generations,
from his own time until our own, he has continued to haunt
man’s imagination.
Within a few decades he became a legend. While
those who had seen and known him were still alive,
his activity came to be described in impossible hyperbole,
which obscured, when it did not destroy, the historical
personality. With the passing of the centuries, Jew,
Christian, and Moslem vied with each other in their
efforts to rebuild the gigantic character. But his real
dimensions eluded them all. They could recognize in the
great teacher, leader, thinker and statesman, who for a
generation had single-handedly held the forces of ethical and
religious disintegration in check, nothing more than a
miracle worker, with magical powers over life and weather.
His poetic insight and his unerring intuition, his sense of
the dramatic and his overwhelming personality were all
lost for them. Their Procrustean imaginations, warped by
their own desires and limited by their own capacities,
hewed the lines of the prophet to suit their needs, and left
our rationalist generation hardly more than a mythological
shadow of his real and vital being.
Yet seen in the light of the social conditions of his day,
Elijah emerges as one of the supreme geniuses of western
history. Not without reason did the editors of the prophetic
DOCTRINE OF PEACE AND PROPHETIC MOVEMENT 399
books couple him with Moses in their final exhortation to
the people — “Remember ye the law of Moses My servant,
which I commanded unto him in Horeb for all Israel, even
statutes and ordinances. Behold, I will send you Elijah the
prophet before the coming of the great and terrible day of
the Lord” (Mai. 3.22). How just these writers were,
appears only when we have succeeded in separating the
facts preserved in Scripture from the legendary material in
which they are embedded. From the day when he first
entered on his ministry as an ordinary village kahin or
priest-physician-prophet in Gilead, through the years when
he valiantly struggled against the intrusion of foreign,
heathen ideals into the life of his people, until the moment
when, feeling that his work was over, he left his colleagues
and pupils to seek peace once more in his native hills, his
powerful spirit did not once yield to the mighty forces
arrayed against him.
It is a plausible conjecture that Elijah was first brought
to Samaria by the reports which reached him in Gilead of
Ahab’s apostasy. At any rate, as soon as he appeared
before the King, he announced that for three years “there
shall not be dew nor rain these years” (I Kings 17.1). The
historicity of the drought which followed is confirmed by
Phoenician traditions, which recalled it as vividly as did
those of the Hebrews.^ In vain did Ahab search Elijah to
beg him to intercede for rain with his God. The prophet
had disappeared as remarkably as he had appeared. It was
afterwards known that he had gone to the brook Cherith
for a time, and when that brook dried up, he had made his
way to the country of the Phoenicians, wishing, doubtless,
to learn more about the forces which were drawing his
people to their foreign worship. Ultimately he returned and
400
THE PHARISEES
called on Obadiah to arrange an interview for him with
the King. When the two men met, neither was in a mood
for conciliation. “Is it thou, thou troubler of Israel?”
Ahab cried to Elijah. “I have not troubled Israel”; replied
Elijah, “but thou, and thy father’s house, in that ye have
forsaken the commandments of the Lord” (I Kings 18.18).
There could be peace between them only on one condition,
he held; if Ahab would agree to convoke a national assembly
to decide on the question of the national worship. There was
nothing to be done but to yield; and Ahab agreed to the
meeting on Mount Carmel.
What transpired on that memorable occasion will never
be known with precision. The legend which grew up about
the incident within a single generation has forever con-
cealed its realities from us. But there can hardly be any
question that the gathering did occur, and that it was the
scene of Elijah’s most impressive triumph. Before he had
completed his argument and his appeal, the people all
arose and shouted, “YHWH, He is our God; YHWH, He
is our God.”
But Elijah knew the character of his real adversary too
well to believe the struggle was over. Having scored his
magnificent victory on Mount Carmel, Elijah was now for the
first time in real peril of his life. Oratory, dramatics, logic,
and athletic prowess — such as he had displayed when he
ran before Ahab’s chariot all the way from the scene on
Mount Carmel to the royal palace in Jezreel — were of no
avail with the relentless Phoenician princess. Her heart was
still bent on the foreign worship and on the enhancement of
the royal power; and no sooner was Ahab home than he
was a tool in her hands. Pondering over the futility of his
efforts, the prophet withdrew to Mount Horeb for new
DOCTRINE OF PEACE AND PROPHETIC MOVEMENT 401
inspiration. There, at the foot of the Mountain of Reve-
lation, the solution of the grievous problem came to him.
The assembly on Mount Carmel had shown — what he had
always believed — that the heart of the common people was
loyal to the God of Israel. They were kept from His service
only through two forces: the ambitions of Ahab and his
patrician courtiers, and the influence of the Phoenician
government. The remedy which suggested itself was indeed
desperate; but could anything else succeed? He determined
to initiate a movement to overthrow the house of Omri, and
to place a plebeian on the throne. But this was only the
first step. To prevent the new King from following in the
ways of Omri, Israel’s allegiance must be turned from
Phoenicia to Aram, and Aram, too, must be made subject
to a government which would be amenable to prophetic
influence. “Go,” he heard the voice of God saying to him
from Mount Horeb, “return on thy way to the wilderness
of Damascus; and when thou comest, thou shalt anoint
Hazael to be king over Aram; and Jehu the son of Nimshi
shalt thou anoint to be king over Israel” (I Kings 19.15 f.).
Placed under two new Kings, both chosen appointees of the
prophetic group, Aram and Israel might present a suffi-
ciently powerful front to resist the idolatrous influences of
Phoenicia and Egypt.
Elijah was too much of a realist to believe for a moment
that this mighty program could be carried out by his few
shepherd followers. It was necessary to obtain the organized
support of the ‘am ha-are%, whom Ahab’s commerical
policies were driving into the opposition; and who were
becoming even more infuriated by the reform in the tax-
collecting system, which wiped out the old tribal boundaries.
The prophet’s primary concern with religious reform had
402
THE PHARISEES
to be submerged for the moment to the peasant’s demand
for social change.
To obtain the full assistance of the peasant group, one
of them had to be associated with the leadership of the
prophetic party; Elijah decided to call on Elisha son of
Shaphat, a young peasant devotee of YHWH, to join him
in his task, with a view to succeeding him when the time
came. “And Elisha the son of Shaphat of Abel-meholah
shalt thou anoint to be prophet in thy room” (19.16).
The fundamental accuracy of the record which describes
the prophet’s cogitations, his decisions, and his later activ-
ities, is demonstrated by its faithful report of the changes
Elijah ultimately introduced into the details of the program.
He was no doctrinaire to be bound by formulated plans;
his ideas adjusted themselves to the exigencies of practical
life.
Acting with unsurpassed skill and craft, he decided as he
made his way northward from the Wilderness of Horeb to
reverse the order of proceedings. The time was not ripe for
a revolution either in Israel or in Aram. Instead of going to
Damascus, he appeared in Abel-meholah and called on
Elisha to join him. The young man, fresh from the plough,
said merely, “Let me, I pray thee, kiss my father and my
mother, and then I will follow thee” (19.20) ; and from that
day onward, he became Elijah’s chosen companion.
It must have been while the prophetic party was under-
going this transformation that Ahab presented it with the
slogan it needed to consolidate its forces. Adjoining the
King’s palace at Jezreel, a man by the name of Naboth had
a vineyard. Wishing to complete his estate, the King offered
to purchase Naboth’s vineyard, or to replace it with another
of his own. But Naboth, descended from a long line of
DOCTRINE OF PEACE AND PROPHETIC MOVEMENT 403
peasants, could not bear to part with his ancestral home-
stead. “The Lord forbid it me,” he cried, “that I should
give the inheritance of my fathers unto thee” (ibid. 21.3).
It was characteristic of the Israelite form of government
that the subject should dare to refuse the offer of the King,
and that the King should, even for a moment, find himself
helpless in the face of the refusal.
Jezebel, however, was more resourceful. She conceived
the plan through which Naboth was accused of the double
crime of blasphemy and treason, — of “cursing God and
the king.” The leaders of his community discovered false
witnesses to testify against him; he was found guilty, and
condemned to death, while his property was confiscated.
The King had his wish; the vineyard of Naboth became
Ahab’s palace garden.
The affair was not one which could shock the subjects of
an ordinary oriental potentate. It could hardly compare
either in cruelty or perfidy with David’s seduction of Bath-
sheba and his murder of her husband (II Sam. 11.15); in
fact, as the commentators have remarked, Jezebel did
nothing that an ordinary avaricious and unscrupulous
noble might not have accomplished. But this meant nothing
to Elijah; the judicial murder and robbery of Naboth was
characteristic of the new temper of the monarchy. In his
retreat on Mount Carmel, Elijah became aware of the circum-
stances of the case, and without delay rushed to the winter
palace of the King to utter his protest. He found Ahab
walking in the newly acquired property. “Hast thou
killed, and also taken possession.?” he said to the King.
“Thus saith the Lord: in the place where dogs licked the
blood of Naboth shall dogs lick thy blood, even thine”
(I Kings 21.19). Paralyzed by his consternation, deeply aware
404
THE PHARISEES
of the human significance of the prophet’s warning, and
perhaps stricken also by awakened remorse, the King could
only reply, “Hast thou found me, O mine enemy?”
“I have found thee,” replied the prophet; “because thou
hast given thyself over to do that which is evil in the sight
of the Lord. Behold I will bring evil upon thee, and will
utterly sweep thee away, and will cut off from Ahab every
man-child, and him that is shut up and him that is at
large in Israel. And I will make thy house like the house
of Jeroboam the son of Nebat, and like the house of Baasa
the son of Ahijah, for the provocation wherewith thou hast
provoked Me, and hast made Israel to sin.”
Ahab knew his antagonist too well to think that these
were idle threats. It was obvious that a revolution was in
the making, the results of which none could foresee. The
arrest and death of Elijah would achieve nothing; the wily
prophet had already appointed a substitute to lead the
revolution should he disappear. The injustice to Naboth
wovdd rally to the prophetic standard many who were little
concerned with the religious issue; it was quite likely that
Ahab’s proud efforts might culminate in the destruction
which overtook the houses of Jeroboam and Baasa. There
was nothing left to do but to submit in silent humiliation.
The King rent his clothes, “put sackcloth upon his flesh,
and fasted, and lay in sackcloth, and went softly” (21.27).
The prophet was not taken in by these superficial gestures.
But he was no lover of violence; and if Ahab, intimidated,
would submit to prophetic guidance, revolution with its
horrors was unjustified. Elijah decided to take no action but
to await the development of events. The prophetic party
Jiad achieved sufficient strength to be patient even with its
DOCTRINE OF PEACE AND PROPHETIC MOVEMENT 405
enemies. It was impossible for either the King or Jezebel
to persecute or suppress it.
But while Elijah desisted from immediate rebellion, he
did not permit the incident of Naboth to be forgotten. The
“blood of Naboth” became a rallying cry against oppression
for generations; and when finally the dynasty fell, the name
of the unforgettable peasant was on the lips of the
avenging rebels !
During all these years, Elijah had concerned himself only
with the internal affairs of the Kingdom; he had taken no
stand on the questions of peace or war. Israel had been
almost continuously at war with Aram during Ahab’s
reign, trying to free itself from the suzerainty of the Syrian
kingdom and to regain its lost territory. But Elijah had
shown no interest in the struggle. He did not support it;
and, on the other hand, he apparently did not believe that
the non-aggression doctrines of Samuel applied to a war
which had as its purpose the liberation of the land from
its conquerors.
The expansion of the prophetic party had, however,
brought into it a new group, which, loyal to YHWH and
opposed to Baal like the rest of the pietists, was yet nation-
alistic in outlook, and sought to regain for Israel all the
lands which David had ruled. Perhaps they had in mind
the establishment of a metropolitan commercial group such
as David had dreamed of, which would constitute the back-
bone of the party. More likely, however, they were not so
far-sighted. They were simple provincials who loved their
country and wished to see it great.®
There was a third faction, headed apparently by a certain
Micaiah son of Imlah, which opposed all war. Anticipating
406
THE PHARISEES
the principle to be announced a century later by Isaiah,
they were sincere lovers of peace at all costs.
It thus came about that when Ahab, having made his
peace with the prophetic party, surrounded himself with
“prophets of the Lord,” he had no difficulty in discovering
a large number who encouraged his military measures.
About to proceed with his vassal-ally, Jehoshaphat, King
of Judah, against Aram, on the eve of a battle he was
promised by them a speedy victory. One of them, named
Zedekiah, “YHWH is righteous,” even made “horns of
iron,” crying to the King, “With these shalt thou gore the
Arameans until they be consumed” (22.11),
But this prophetic unanimity was far from satisfactory
to Jehoshaphat, who insisted on seeking the advice of
Micaiah son of Imlah. As was to be expected, Micaiah
prophesied evil, predicting the death of the King himself.
Ahab’s indulgence toward the prophetic party did not
include its ultra-pacifist faction, and he felt justified in
throwing Micaiah into prison until he should return from
battle alive and victorious. Alas, it was not to be. In spite
of his show of confidence, the King took the precaution of
disguising himself as a common soldier; but the trick proved
futile. He was struck by a stray arrow from the opposing
camp, and died as he was being taken home to Samaria.
Ahab’s death momentarily increased Jezebel’s prestige.
As Queen Mother, custom gave her greater authority than
as Queen Consort; and in addition Ahaziah was entirely
under her influence. His activities might have provoked
the long awaited revolution, had he reigned for any con-
siderable time. At the end of two years, however, he fell
out of a lattice in his upper chamber at Samaria, and was
killed.
DOCTRINE OF PEACE AND PROPHETIC MOVEMENT 407
His brother, Jehoram, who succeeded to the throne,
definitely broke with Jezebel and her party. He realized
the growing strength of the prophetic following, and tried
to propitiate them by putting aside “the pillar of Baal that
his father had made” (II Kings 3.2). It was too late. The
day of the statesmanly Elijah, who could be both firm and
patient, was past; the leadership of the prophetic party was
in the hands of the fierce and determined peasant, Elisha.
Watching carefully for his opportunity during the thirteen
years of Jehoram’s rule, Elisha slowly developed a con-
siderable following in Aram as well as in Israel.® At a
propitious moment, when Ben-hadad, the King of Aram,
lay ill, Elisha appeared in Damascus, where he was
welcomed with all the reverence due to a recognized teacher
and leader of an international following. Accepting the
honors paid him, he persuaded Hazael, one of Ben-hadad’s
generals, to undertake the leadership of the peasants’
cause and to overthrow the existing government. The
reigning king Ben-hadad was murdered, and Hazael
ascended the throne in his place.'*'
That this was no palace revolution is obvious from
Elisha’s r61e in it. The prophet could hardly have cared
whether one prince or another ruled the distant Arameans;
his trip to Damascus and the fact that his relation to the
rebellion are recorded in Scripture, indicate clearly the
social and prophetic nature of the effort. Returning to
Samaria after the success of his venture against Ben-hadad,
Elisha again bided his time for a suitable occasion to unseat
also the reigning King of Israel. Before many years Hazael
declared war on Israel. The Scriptures give us some ground
for believing that he did so at the instigation of Elisha and
the prophetic party (II Kings 8.11). But however this
408
THE PHARISEES
may be, Elisha seized the opportunity offered by the arming
and massing of the peasantry for battle, to carry out the
long-ripening project. The King had been wounded in
battle and lay ill in his palace at Jezreel. Hearing this,
Elisha at once dispatched a messenger to the camp, at
Ramoth-gilead, to anoint Jehu, one of the generals, as Israel’s
new King. Jehu, at first uncertain of the army’s attitude,
hesitated to accept the call; but the secret came out, and he
was hailed as king by his fellow commanders. Proceeding at
once to Jezreel where King Joram lay sick, Jehu slew him and
Queen Jezebel, as well as King Ahaziah of Judah, who was
visiting them. Jehu immediately set out for Samaria but
paused on his way to win the support of Jehonadab the son
of Rechab, the leader of the purist-shepherd party. “And
when he departed thence he lighted on Jehonadab the son
of Rechab, coming to meet him, and said to him: Ts thy
heart right, as my heart is with thy heart?’ And Jehonadab
answered: Tt is.’ Tf it be’ [said Jehu] ‘give me thy hand.’
And he gave him his hand; and he took him up to him
into the chariot. And he said, ‘Come with me and see my
zeal for the Lord’ ” (II Kings 10.15).
It is clear from the story that Jehu was not of the
prophetic party himself. He represented neither the land-
less plebeians who were the backbone of the prophetic
following, nor the aristocratic assimilationists who had given
their support to Jezebel, but the rural peasantry who,
massed in the army, had suddenly realized their power. It
was for this reason that the prophets later found so much
to criticize in Jehu and his house. But for the moment
they preferred Jehu to Ahab.
In his efforts to win the support of the semi-nomadic
shepherds, Jehu apparently affected their characteristic
DOCTRINE OF PEACE AND PROPHETIC MOVEMENT 409
sleeveless jacket and long-fringed, girdled skirt. But it is
equally characteristic of his reign that his followers, the
courtiers, wore the clothes natural to men of opulence at
the time. It is thus the King and princes appear on the
Black Obelisk, which commemorates their appearance
before Shalmaneser III, King of Assyria.*
Seen in the light of this analysis Jehu’s rebellion and the
corresponding effort of the prophetic party in Aram were of
far greater importance than the simple biblical narrative
would indicate. They were part of a widespread revolt of the
peasant masses against the aristocratic chieftains, and were
instigated by the prophetic following, who now came into
power for a little time. The events corresponded altogether
to the struggle which was to be enacted two centuries later in
Greece when Solon introduced his reforms in Athens, and
four centuries later in Italy when the plebeians demanded
a redistribution of land in Rome. * In each of these countries,
the peasants silently and quietly accepted their debased
position until the new money economy, the dispossession
of the old farmers from their homesteads, the growth of the
cities, and the development of a concentrated proletariat,
gave sudden strength to the revolutionary movements.
Both Hazael’s rebellion and that of Jehu bear clear
marks of a peasant revolt. As we have already noted, one
of the characteristics of the ancient peasant was his lack
of refinement and his brutality toward those who fell into
his power. The gory tale of Jehu’s needless cruelties becomes
intelligible only in the light of this fact. He commands
Jezebel’s eunuchs to throw her out of the window to be
dashed to pieces on the ground, and then leaves her body
to be consumed by street curs. While this inhumanity is
being carried out, he goes home to eat and drink, and only
410
THE PHARISEES
after his refreshment reminds himself that being a Queen,
Jezebel is entitled to proper burial. His order to slaughter
the seventy sons of Ahab may be accepted as part of the
usual procedure in an oriental revolt. But his treatment of
the Baal worshipers has a refinement of cruelty quite out of
keeping with the usual Israelitish gentleness toward the
vanquished. He invites all the Baal adherents to join with
him in a special service to their god. “Ahab,” he announces,
“served Baal a little; Jehu will serve him much” (II Kings
10.18). Deceived by these kind words, the unsuspecting
votaries of the foreign god assemble in great numbers at
his Temple, where Jehu offers the customary sacrifice. But
when that is done, he admits the soldiery who, standing
without, are waiting for the signal, and slaughters everyone
present.
Hazael’s bloodthirstiness and brutality was of a piece
with that of Jehu. We have no record of the scenes in
Damascus when he ascended the throne, but for decades
people spoke with terror of his heartless cruelties in the
subsequent war against Israel. Elisha is said to have wept
when he offered Hazael the crown of Aram, because he
foresaw the consequences to his people. “And Hazael
said: 'Why weepeth my lord?’ And he answered: ‘Because
I know the evil that thou wilt do unto the children of
Israel: their strongholds wilt thou set on fire, and their
young men wilt thou slay with the sword, and wilt dash
in pieces their little ones, and rip up their women with
child’ ” (ibid. 8.12). That Hazael actually carried out these
horrible predictions we know from Amos (1.3).
The conflict between the assimilationist nobility and the
loyalist gentry was not limited to northern Israel. It raged
DOCTRINE OF PEACE AND PROPHETIC MOVEMENT 411
with equal fervor in Judah, which had been for some genera-
tions a vassal of the northern state. Asa, who had called
on Aram to help him against Israel, had been succeeded by
his son, Jehoshaphat, who accepted Ahab’s suzerainty,
following him in his wars and even marrying his heir-
apparent, Jehoram, to Athaliah, the daughter of Ahab and
Jezebel. This princess succeeded in impressing the “manner
of the house of Ahab” on Judah both during the life of her
husband and that of her son, Ahaziah; and when the latter
died, she, a veritable Lady Macbeth, massacred all his
heirs, including her own grandchildren, and seized the
throne. Only one of the princes, Jehoash, an infant less
than a year old, escaped, being saved by one of his aunts.
For six years Athaliah reigned in her own right, holding in
check both those who were loyal to the Davidic dynasty and
those who were seeking a social revolution. This was the more
remarkable because an enemy of her house, Jehu, was
King over Israel; and large sections of her own subject
population — the ‘am ha-arez who ultimately deposed her,
and the prophetic, plebeian group which ever after
execrated her memory — opposed her. Yet she could not,
of course, have held her throne single-handedly. It is
obvious that her assistants were the patrician nobles who,
fearing a coup of the ‘am ha-arez in Judah similar to Jehu’s
in the North, used her as a means of maintaining their own
authority. This is what is actually implied in the Scriptures,
which conclude the story of the coup against her by saying:
“So all the ‘am ha-arez rejoiced, and the city was quiet”
(II Kings 11.20). Bearing in mind that ancient records
speak of the “city” when they mean the “nobility,” we
may rightly infer from this passage that the gentry accepted
412
THE PHARISEES
the new King with joy, and the aristocracy accepted him
with resignation. That the aristocracy should have preferred
a woman usurper of foreign nationality to the rightful heir is
explicable only if they considered important matters of policy
at stake in her retention. What these were becomes clear
when we consider that Athaliah was the daughter of Ahab
and Jezebel. She doubtless endeavored to carry out in
Judah the policies which her family had followed in Northern
Israel. Hence we understand the zeal of the Temple priests
for the rightful heir to the throne, and the union between
ecclesiastic and militia against the princes and the nobles.
And hence, too, the vigor with which the victorious rebels
in Judah, as in Israel, turned against the foreign Baal whom
Athaliah had worshiped (II Kings 11.18). For the aristo-
crats, the vassalage of Judah to Israel and of Israel to
Phoenicia had been not merely a political but a cultural
relationship. Like the Hellenists of a later generation they,
as early as the ninth century B.C.E., wanted to escape
the comradeship and association of their lowly brethren —
the poor plebeians no less than the unsophisticated peasants.
But in both Judah and Israel the militia drawn from the
country revolted, and asserted their rights on the one
hand and the national will to live on the other. The double
purpose of the rebellion is clearly stated in Scripture, which
tells us: “And Jehoiada made a covenant between the
Lord and the king and the people, that they should be
the Lord’s people; between the king also and the people”
(II Kings 11.17). In other words, the King and the people
undertook together to be loyal to their ancestral worship
and not to permit the intrusion of the foreign, Phoenician
Baal; while the King, on his part, granted the people
definite rights in the government. The writer of Scripture,
DOCTRINE OF PEACE AND PROPHETIC MOVEMENT 413
less interested in political and social affairs than in those of
the Temple, tells us nothing of the provisions of this second
covenant, which would so much interest us. But the power
which the ‘am ha-arez as a body exercised from this day on
implies that it had replaced at least in part the Gerousia,
or council of patrician elders, as the King’s advisory board.
Nothing is mentioned in the biblical narrative of the part
played in this rebellion by the plebeian shepherds, the city
proletariat, or the prophetic following. Yet an incident
which occurred twenty-three years later throws some light
on the matter. The King, now thirty years old, was
becoming impatient with the restraint exerted upon him by
the priesthood, who claimed full credit for his elevation to
the throne. To check their arrogance he had to seek assist-
ance from some other powerful group. It was useless to
turn to the patrician nobles, who still resented the death of
Athaliah, their tool. Nor could he expect assistance from
the scattered members of the ‘am ha-arez, which could be
assembled only in moments of crisis. In his desperation, he
decided to turn to the proletariat and trading groups of
Jerusalem. The manner in which he did this is described
in simple words by the historian. Until Jehoash’s time, the
priests had been authorized to receive the voluntary
offerings made by their friends for the Temple; and in
return they were expected to keep the Temple structure in
repair. But it turned out that the priests, taking the gifts,
failed to carry out their part of the agreement, and the
building suffered. Thereupon the King prohibited the
priests from accepting such donations and set up a chest in
which the money could be deposited for the “repair of the
house of the Lord.” When the chest became filled with
money, the King’s scribe and the High Priest together put
414
THE PHARISEES
it in bags and counted it. The money was then turned
over to the proper ofHcials of the Temple to be given “into
the hands of them that did the work, that had oversight of
the house of the Lord” (11 Kings 12.12). It was spent for
“the carpenters and the builders, that wrought upon the
house of the Lord, and to the masons and the hewers of
stone, and for buying timber and hewn stone to repair the
breaches of the house of the Lord, and for all that was laid
out for the house to repair it” (12.13). But “they reckoned
not with the men, into whose hand they delivered the
money to give to them that did the work, for they dealt
faithfully” (12.16). To put the matter briefly, the King
trusted the workers, but not the priests. Since the pro-
letariat stood at the bottom of the social ladder and the
priests at its top, the measure of this insult can readily be
imagined.^®
The King indicated further his adherence to the
prophetic group when he ordered that no “cups of silver,
snuffers, basins, trumpets, any vessels of gold, or vessels of
silver,” be made out “of the money which was brought
into the house of the Lord” (12.14). As Abram Menes has
shown, this rule was definitely associated with the plebeian
doctrine of the simple worship. The priestly historian
indicates his dissatisfaction with this quarrel by saying:
“And Jehoash did that which was right in the eyes of the
Lord all his days while Jehoiada the priest instructed
him” (II Kings 12.3).
In spite of these important concessions to the prole-
tariat, the real power lay in the hands of the ‘am ha-arez.
The reigns of Jehoash and his immediate successors were
obviously periods of continued strife between this large and
ambitious group of peasants and the old aristocrats, who
DOCTRINE OF PEACE AND PROPHETIC MOVEMENT 415
made repeated efforts to reassert their prerogatives. This
may be inferred from the fact that both Jehoash and his
son, Amaziah, met violent deaths. It is highly instructive
to note that when Amaziah was assassinated “the whole
^am Yehudah took Azariah, who was sixteen years old, and
made him king” (II Kings 14.21). This passage which, like
some others (cf. e. g. Jer. 25.2) uses ‘am Yehudah as variant
for ‘am ha-arez, shows the continued power of the gentry
and their loyalty to the reigning house of David. When
Azariah became ill and his son, Jotham, was appointed
regent, he is said to “have judged the ‘am ha-arez” (II Kings
15.5). Here again the squireage, which means the army,
appear in a special position of influence and power such as
they could not have had before the coup through which
they removed Athaliah.
The long and peaceful reign of Azariah brought prosperity
to the country, particularly to the trading classes, stimu-
lating the growth of Jerusalem. Describing this period, at
the beginning of his ministry, Isaiah says:
“Their land also is full of silver and gold.
Neither is there any end of their treasures;
Their land also is full of horses.
Neither is there any end of their chariots” (2.7 ff.).
Their enhanced prosperity enabled the trading classes of
Jerusalem and the artisans who were allied with them to
seek far greater power and influence than they had enjoyed
even under Jehoash. Fortunately for them, they obtained
as their leader a prophet — Isaiah — who, distinguished in
descent, as well as by his personal gifts of spirit, mind, and
eloquence, was able to translate their inchoate strivings
into a vigorous program of action.
416
THE PHARISEES
And, indeed, those were days when the Commonwealth
stood in great need of wise guidance. Judah’s trade had
grown while Aram was having her own difficulties with
Assyria. But the time had come when Aram, realizing that
she could not defeat Assyria singlehandedly, sought to lure
or force her smaller neighbors into a conspiracy against the
Eastern Empire. Ahaz, who was king of Judah, saw that
he had nothing to gain from entering into an alliance with
Aram and much to lose. The success of the effort against
Assyria could only leave Judah in vassalage to Aram and
Northern Israel, while its failure would, of course, mean
ruin. When, however, he declined to join his larger
neighbors, they invaded his land, besieged his capital, and
prepared to replace him with a puppet king of their own,
the son of Tabeel (735 B.C.E.). Ahaz, in terror, followed
the opportunistic advice of his princes and nobles and called
on Assyria for succor.
This, Isaiah and his prophetic following, who had sup-
ported Ahaz’s neutral policy, considered a fatal error.
Isaiah (7.4) mocked the king’s panic: “Keep calm and be
quiet”; he said, “fear not, neither let thy heart be faint,
because of these two tails of smoking fire brands, for the
fierce anger of Rezin and Aram, and of the son of Remaliah.”
Transforming the old prophetic antipathy to war into a
positive doctrine of peace, he for the first time in history
laid down the principle of International Right. There was
justice among nations as there was justice among individ-
uals. Full of faith, Isaiah held that Judah should neither
join in battle against Assyria nor invoke her aid.“ God
could be relied on to save His people; there was no need to
turn to Tiglath-pileser. There was statesmanship as well as
piety in this teaching, for Assyria would certainly of her
DOCTRINE OF PEACE AND PROPHETIC MOVEMENT 417
own accord move to protect her interests, while by inviting
her help Ahaz automatically accepted vassalage. The
prophet did not object to nominal political subjection, or
even to the payment of annual tribute to Assyria. He
feared the cultural and religious submission which accom-
panied vassalage. The historian clearly records that when
“king Ahaz went to Damascus to meet Tiglath-pileser
king of Assyria, he saw the altar that was at Damascus;
and king Ahaz sent to Urijah the priest the fashion of the
altar and the pattern of it, .... according to all that
king Ahaz had sent from Damascus; so did Urijah the
priest make it against the coming of king Ahaz from
Damascus” (II Kings 16.10 ff.). Isaiah had the same
objection to this innovation that Elijah had to the worship
of the Phoenician Baal.
For the moment, however, Isaiah and his followers were
defeated. Assyria saved Judah from destruction and inci-
dentally extended its suzerainty over both Aram and
Israel.
Ahaz, the easily terrified weakling, was succeeded by his
son, the strong, determined, ambitious Hezekiah. From the
beginning the prophetic party recognized a friend in the
new king and placed high hopes in his rule. But his sym-
pathy was not altogether a matter of persuasion; it was
largely opportunistic. In the same year in which Hezekiah
had ascended the throne of Judah, Shalmaneser IV became
king of Assyria. The change of world emperors was always
a signal for revolt among the smaller states, and Israel,
which together with Aram had been beaten so completely
a few years before, now attempted to retrieve its losses.
Shalmaneser invaded the land, besieged the capital,
Samaria, and after a three-year siege, reduced the all but
418
THE PHARISEES
impregnable fortress. Israel lost its independence, and a
large part of its population was transported to distant
lands, their places being taken, according to Assyrian
policy, by people from various Aramean cities. Hezekiah,
whose statesmanship cannot be doubted, recognized that
his time had come. What, in view of the overwhelming
power of Assyria, could not be accomplished by force of
arms would be gained by the peaceful penetration of traders
and the deflection of Samaria’s commerce to Jerusalem.
If, a hundred years later, Ezekiel could speak of Jerusalem
as a great international market, the foundations for that
development were laid during Hezekiah’s reign, when
Samaria lay in ruins.
Desiring to increase the strength and prestige of his
capital city, Hezekiah broke away from the rural policies
which his predecessors had followed for more than a century.
Perhaps, like monarchs of other ages and countries, he was
glad of the opportunity to curb the growing power of the
army and the squireage. To attain his purpose, Hezekiah
cunningly invented a policy admirably suited to the wishes
of city patrician as well as plebeian, but violently antag-
onistic to those of the country. He resisted all efforts to
involve him in a war with Assyria, abolished the gods and
the altars which Ahaz had introduced, and went so far as
to suppress the village altars, the high places, which were
miniature rivals of Jerusalem’s Temple (II Kings 18.4).“
The prophets had long become convinced that there was no
hope of purifying Judah’s religious life unless it was con-
centrated in one sanctuary. So long as the provincials
worshiped in their local shrines, the pure theology inherited
from wilderness days would inevitably become diluted
with the sensual, agricultural ceremonies of the ancient
DOCTRINE OF PEACE AND PROPHETIC MOVEMENT 419
Canaanites. Many village temples had become places of
religious miasma in which the strangest syncretism between
Israel’s religion and the cult of the agricultural deities was
to be found. The recently discovered Elephantine papyri
give us a vivid picture of the religion developed by a colony
of these provincials in distant Egypt. The confusion of
Israel’s God and the local gods and goddesses is so com-
plete that one wonders whether prophetic teaching had had
any effect on these people at all.‘® Yet the forms of worship
used in the villages of Judah were doubtless not essentially
different from those recorded in these tablets of the Island
of Yeb. The Baal ceremonies and worship were so deeply
ingrained in the rural mind, they were so admirably adapted
to country needs, that they were inevitably retained in
large parts of the country. The farmers, ignorant of theol-
ogy and incapable of casuistry, simply continued the folk
ways but associated them with the national God of Israel.
Just as in later days the nations of Europe, becoming
Christianized, adhered to their ancient Teutonic and Celtic
celebrations, merely giving them new meaning, so the
ancient Hebrew peasants served God through the medium
of the Canaanite forms which the prophets, loyal to the
nomadic tradition, condemned. The destruction of the
high places in which the syncretism flourished seemed to
the prophetic following the only possible method of com-
bating the tendency. One God and one sanctuary became
the dominant thought of the party.
It has been supposed that the Jerusalem priests were the
chief sponsors of this movement. This simple explanation
has, however, one fatal defect — it does not accord with
the known facts. Certainly the priesthood of the Temple
was pleased when its sanctuary was declared God’s sole
420
THE PHARISEES
temple on earth. But the Law (Deut. 18.6) gives the local
village priests full right of participation in the services of
the main sanctuary. It further denies to any priests the
right to own land. It is inconceivable that such rules would
emanate from the Jerusalem priesthood or be supported
by it. It seems far more probable that the movement
to eradicate the high places was initiated by the prophets
who feared syncretism, and advanced by the traders of
Jerusalem who sought to enhance the prestige of their
metropolis. “
By the year 704 B.C.E., Judah had reached new heights
of prosperity; the policies of Hezekiah had been successful,
the land was rich and powerful, subject only to light burdens
of a distant and friendly Assyrian overlord. Just at this
time Sargon, King of Assyria, died, leaving the throne to
the inexperienced Sennacherib. The change of rulers was
again a signal for unrest among the subject peoples who had
trembled before the very name of the earlier king. Chaldea,
never quiescent under the rule of Assyria, declared its
independence, and preparations were being made to receive
back Merodach-baladan, the ancient foe of Assyria, who
had been driven into the marshlands in 709. Egypt sought
advantage to itself in the unsettled conditions at Nineveh;
and Judah, now the foremost state in Syria, was approached
by both great governments with the suggestion that it
join them in a world conspiracy against the tyrant.
The temptation was great. So widespread a conspiracy,
involving both Egypt and Babylonia as well as Palestine,
might easily succeed against a new and untried monarch.
If the allies were victorious, Judah would emerge far more
powerful than it had been at any time in its history. It
DOCTRINE or PEACE AND PROPHETIC MOVEMENT 421
would control all the land governed by David and might
aspire to Empire. With such stakes at hand the ambition
and opportunism of Hezekiah and his aristocratic coun-
selors asserted themselves, and he entered the conspiracy.
Isaiah, whose pacifism was uncompromising, denounced
the whole affair and warned Hezekiah of the grave dangers
which he might incur. A strong Babylon would be not a
whit less oppressive a master than a strong Assyria. Judah
had ultimately nothing to gain from being yoked with such
lions; its hope lay in pacific neutrality and submission.
“And Isaiah said unto Hezekiah; ‘Hear the word of the
Lord. Behold, the days come, that all that is in thy house,
and that which thy fathers have laid up in store unto this
day, shall be carried to Babylon; nothing shall be left, saith
the Lord. And of thy sons that shall issue from thee, whom
thou shalt beget, shall they take away; and they shall be
officers in the palace of the king of Babylon.’ Then said
Hezekiah unto Isaiah: ‘Good is the word of the Lord which
thou hast spoken.’ He said moreover: ‘Is it not so, if peace
and truth be in my days?’ ” (II Kings 20.16 ff.).
Read by itself, Hezekiah’s reply seems unspeakably
childish and selfish, even if uttered contemptuously and
ironically. He is happy with peace in his own day and
quite careless about the storm being prepared for his
descendants. But seen in the light of the whole history the
words gain in significance. Hezekiah takes Isaiah’s
prophecy to imply the success of the conspiracy ; the prophet
does not threaten destruction at the hands of Assyria but
an almost eschatological defeat at the hands of Babylonia,
now endeavoring in companionship with Israel to throw off
Assyrian bondage. He replies, therefore, quite naturally.
422
THE PHARISEES
“Good is the word which thou hast spoken.” He could not
provide for an endless future, but it was well to embark on
a policy which would lead to immediate success.
Isaiah continued to preach peace and submission, appeal-
ing from the King to the people. “Woe to the rebellious
children, saith the Lord, that take counsel, but not of Me,
and that form projects, but not of My spirit, that they
may add sin to sin; that walk to go down into Egypt, and
have not asked at My mouth; to take refuge in the strong-
hold of Pharaoh, and to take shelter in the shadow of Egypt !
Therefore shall the stronghold of Pharaoh turn to your
shame, and the shelter in the shadow of Egypt to your
confusion” (30.1-3).
In his effort to avoid imminent war, Isaiah rises to the
most sublime picture of a pacific world which had yet come
from him. He foresees a new King succeeding Hezekiah,
coming forth “a shoot out of the stock of Jesse,”
“And the spirit of the Lord shall rest on him.
The spirit of wisdom and understanding.
The spirit of counsel and might,
The spirit of knowledge and fear of the Lord ....
But with righteousness shall he judge the poor,
And decide with equity for the meek of the land ....
And righteousness shall be girdle of his loins.
And faithfulness the girdle of his reins.
And the wolf shall dwell with the lamb,
And the leopard shall lie down with the kid;
And the calf and the young lion and the fading together;
And a little child shall lead them.
And the cow and the bear shall feed;
Their young ones shall lie down together;
DOCTRINE OF PEACE AND PROPHETIC MOVEMENT 423
And the lion shall eat straw like the ox.
And the sucking child shall play on the hole of the asp,
And the weaned child shall put his hand on the
basilisk’s den.
They shall not hurt nor destroy.
In all My holy mountain;
For the earth shall be full of knowledge of the Lord,
As the waters cover the sea” (11.1 fF.).i®
But Isaiah’s advice was not merely based on states-
manlike love of peace; it was associated with profound
religious convictions and what he and his party considered
true patriotism. The time had clearly come when Judah
had to choose between subjection to the Asiatic or the
African empire. Independence was not to be dreamed of;
it could not be had by the weak in a world based on force
and violence. Yet the empires of the Nile and the Euphrates
were so evenly balanced that Judah could, if it wished,
choose its master.
This was no novel situation for Judah or Israel. For
centuries they had been buffer states between Babylonia
and Egypt, Assyria and Egypt, Aram and Egypt. Through
all this period the prophetic party had inclined toward
Asiatic rather than African masters. When Abraham had
to choose a wife for his son, he commanded his servant to
bring him a daughter-in-law from amidst his family in
Aram, but by no means to select one from the Canaanites
of the land. Hagar took a wife for Ishmael from the land
of Egypt (Gen. 21.21), but Rebekah and Isaac, like
Abraham, sent their son Jacob to Mesopotamia for his wife.
In Deuteronomy (26.5) the Israelites are definitely declared
the descendants of a “wandering Aramean.” The Law,
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THE PHARISEES
indeed, forbids the Judaite to despise the Egyptian (Deut.
23.8), yet it endeavors to protect the Judaite from the in-
fluences of the Nile country. The Book of Leviticus specifi-
cally mentions the “doings of the land of Egypt wherein
ye dwelt,” and the “doings of the land of Canaan, whither
I bring you,” as those to be avoided by the Israelite (Lev.
18.3). Nothing is said about the dangerous customs of
Aram, Assyria or Babylonia.
This was not due to special fondness which the plebeian
felt for Mesopotamia and its culture. He would have
opposed Aramean, Babylonian or Assyrian assimilation with
the same fervor which he used against Egypt. But while
his nomadic traditions were in no danger from the kingdoms
of the East in the ninth century and later; he had much to
fear from the insidious influence of Egypt. The Canaanite
culture was dominated by Egypt. Indeed the Hebraic
traditions declared Egypt and Canaan brothers, although
the two peoples were quite distinct from each other in
language and in racial origin. It was their similarity in
custom and manner which led Scripture to say that Mizraim
(Egypt) and Canaan (the native population of Palestine)
were both sons of Ham (Gen. 10.6).
Throughout the First Commonwealth the Jewish nobil-
ity preferred the standards of these Canaanite peoples,
and consequently those of Egypt from which they derived.
In addition to the attraction which Egypt had for the
aristocrat, as the source of the Canaanite culture, it had its
own especial fascination because of its size, its power, its
technology, and especially its commercial associations with
the Grossgrundbesitzer. Documents which have been pre-
served in the Egyptian sands leave no doubt that in all
periods the wealthiest Palestinians sought a market for their
DOCTRINE OF PEACE AND PROPHETIC MOVEMENT 425
products in Egypt, just as they turned to Egypt for their
cultural examples and their social ambitions.
Babylonia and Assyria were too far to have much
influence and Aram too small. It was natural, therefore,
that the culturally nationalist plebeian should feel less fear
in subjection of his country to a Mesopotamian ruler than
to an Egyptian Pharaoh. The result of his antagonism was
that throughout the later years of the First Common-
wealth, when Egypt and Mesopotamia again became rivals
for world empire, Judah was divided between a pro-
Egyptian aristocracy and the pro-Babylonian plebeians. It
is of the utmost interest to note how the same conflict was
resurrected in the Second Commonwealth in the few decades
when the Ptolemys of Egypt struggled against the Seleucids
of Syria. No sooner had these successors of Alexander the
Great reconstructed the ancient empires than the dichotomy
in Palestine between the wealthy Egyptophiles and the
poor Egyptophobes also sprang into being once again.^^
It was thus quite impossible for Isaiah to regard with
composure an alliance between Judah and Egypt. Such an
alliance violated his doctrine of peace; it threatened cultural
assimilation; it was certain to end in failure and destruction.
But the prophet’s warnings were all in vain. Hezekiah’s
plans were fixed and unalterable. He weighed the chances
and believed that they favored him. The King thus
quarreled with the plebeians on the same issue of war and
peace which was destined, five centuries later, to bring
about a similar rift between the Maccabean King, John
Hyrkan, and the pacifist Pharisees.^*
The event had a decisive influence not only on the life
of the state but also on the character of prophecy. The
prophet had entered the field of pure politics, where wor-
426
THE PHARISEES
ship as such was not in any way involved. He denounced
the King, not for sin against the ritual, or even against
ethics, but against what he called divinely commanded
diplomacy. The fissure in the prophetic ranks which had
first become apparent in the days of Micaiah son of Imlah
of Northern Israel, had at last developed into a complete
cleavage. Those of the prophetic following who rejected
Isaiah’s doctrine of peace had to leave the party, no matter
what their attitude toward his theology and ritual might
be. To the two kinds of prophets which the country had
known before his time, those of YHWH and those of Baal,
there was added a third species — the “false” prophets, who
spoke in the name of YHWH, but rejected His doctrine of
peace. Carried away by war fever, these prophets, like
certain poets, teachers, ecclesiastics, and philosophers of all
ages, preached blind patriotism, which for them meant
submission to the policy of their rulers. The struggle
between the two groups of prophets of YHWH remained
acute throughout the period following Isaiah.
But now events took a more unfavorable turn than even
Isaiah had predicted. Sennacherib, more energetic and
ruthless than his warrior father, had quickly crushed the
Babylonian revolt and turned to settle matters on the
Mediterranean coast. In 700 B.C.E. he appeared in
Palestine at the head of his well disciplined, irresistible
troops, whose very march struck terror into the hearts of
the Judaites. Sweeping past the tiny kingdom of Judah, he
marched the main army down the coast line against the
Philistine cities who had joined the conspiracy, while a
detachment was sent into the interior of Judah to ravage
the countryside and the fortified towns. “And destroy to
DOCTRINE OF PEACE AND PROPHETIC MOVEMENT 427
Hezekiah the Judaite, who had not submitted to my yoke,”
Sennacherib tells us in his inscription, “forty-six of his
fenced cities and fortresses, and small towns in their vicin-
ity without number, by breaking them down with battering
rams and the strokes of ... . the assaults of breach-stormers
and the blows of axes and hatchets, I besieged and took,
200,150 persons;^® small and great, male and female, horses,
mules, asses, camels, large cattle, small cattle, without
number, I brought forth from the midst of them, and
allotted as spoil. As for himself, like a caged bird in
Jerusalem, his capital city, I shut him up.”^“
In utter despair, Hezekiah turned for comfort and assist-
ance to the prophet whose advice and warning he had
spurned.
Isaiah, leader of the pacific party, was confident.
Speaking to people who could have watched from their
ramparts the heartless destruction wrought by the Assyrian
in the lowlands about them, whose country had been
depopulated through rapine, massacre and the exile of
thousands of people, he urged stability and faith. Jerusalem,
he was certain, would not be destroyed. “Behold their
valiant ones cry without; the ambassadors of peace weep
bitterly. The highways lie waste, the wayfaring man
ceaseth; he hath broken the covenant, he hath despised
cities, he regardeth no man. The land mourneth and
languisheth; Lebanon is ashamed, it withereth; Sharon is
like a wilderness; and Bashan and Carmel are clean and
bare. Now will I arise, saith the Lord; now will I be exalted;
now will I lift Myself up. Ye conceive chaff, ye shall bring
forth stubble; your breath is a fire that shall devour you ....
Look upon Zion, the city of our solemn gatherings; thine
428
THE PHARISEES
eyes shall see Jerusalem a peaceful habitation, a tent that
shall not be removed; the stakes whereof shall never be
plucked up, neither shall any of the cords thereof be broken”
(33.7 f.). God “whose fire is in Zion, and His furnace in
Jerusalem” (31.9) could not permit His household to be
destroyed.
The firm faith that Jerusalem in a peculiar sense belonged
to God indicates that the village altars had already been
denounced by the prophet as unholy, and had consequently
been suppressed by the King. If there were other sanctu-
aries in the land, and they had been destroyed by the As-
syrian, why should Jerusalem expect special safety?
The teaching of the prophet once again coincided with
highest statesmanship as well as with the need of the
metropolitan citizenry. Submission to Sennacherib’s new
demand was impossible. He frankly declared his intention
to deport the population to some other country “ as goodly
as yours;” indeed his treatment of the inhabitants of the
other cities left no doubt of the fate of his captives, even
had he been silent.
Jerusalem was awaiting with impatience news of the
impending battle between Sennacherib and the Egyptians,
when one of the strangest and most dramatic events in the
whole of Jewish history occurred to save the city. As the
Assyrian army lay encamped on the borders of the desert,
a plague broke out felling 185,000 of the soldiers and forcing
Sennacherib to make his way back to Nineveh with all
possible speed. Two hundred years later Herodotus, wan-
dering in the neighborhood, still heard stories of the
remarkable episode. Sennacherib, in his monument, passes
it over with appropriate silence, but the Scriptures gleefully
DOCTRINE OF PEACE AND PROPHETIC MOVEMENT 429
report the miracle which so amazingly confirmed the pro-
phetic prediction.
The catastrophe which had befallen Sennacherib’s army,
and the news that Tirhaka, the Egyptian general, was
preparing to take advantage of the situation to attack him,
compelled the Assyrian King to accept milder terms of
peace than might have been expected. It is an error,
however, to suppose that he was defeated. Holding
practically all Judah in his power, he was still able to
impose a victor’s terms on Hezekiah. The only concession
he granted the rebel king was permission to retain his
throne as Assyrian vassal. Large tracts of the Judaite
kingdom were transferred to the Philistines, a heavy tribute
of no less than thirty talents of gold and three hundred
talents of silver was paid to the conqueror, and Hezekiah’s
daughters — apparently he yet had no son — were taken
into captivity.
While the prophet might thus look upon the issue of the
war as the supreme vindication of his teachings, his oppo-
nents were hardly prepared to share in his jubilation.
Hungry, humiliated, and without hope, the Judaites lost
faith in their prophet and his God. The homeless peasants
were strengthened in their conviction that the destruction
of the village altars had been an error. Anyone could have
foreseen that no God would wish to have His sanctuaries
suppressed. The prophetic teaching that Israel’s God was
different from all others was clearly false, witness His
unwillingness or inability to bring defeat on the Assyrians
when they were ravaging the country. The remarkable
episode on the borders of Egypt could be rationally
430
THE PHARISEES
explained as due to the gods of that country, who were
ready to defend the people. The vivid, immediate experience
of famine and poverty overshadowed all the memories of
the intense relief they had felt when news had come of
Sennacherib’s retreat; they forgot how much worse things
might have been; they knew only how bad they were.
The plebeian traders of the city suffered more deeply and
for a longer time than the peasants. In a few years the
farmers had returned each to his land and settled down to
get their food from the soil. But the trader’s markets were
permanently destroyed by the wholesale deportation and
the loss of the national territory. The impoverishment of
the farmer, who still lived within the narrowed confines of
Judah, prevented his coming to the capital and engaging
in the luxury of purchase; while the more numerous
peasantry who had been transferred to the control of the
Philistines naturally turned to other market places under
their new dominions. The commercial and artisan class was
thus once more reduced in position and prestige as well as
in numbers and, above all, in its faith and self-confidence.
The ground was thus prepared for a counter-reformation,
which would restore the cultural conditions of Aha2’s days.
The gentry had been overpowered by Hezekiah and they,
too, had suffered grievously in Sennacherib’s devastating
invasion. The time was ripe for a return of the nobles to
the power which they had lost in the revolt against
Athaliah. Whether this could have been accomplished in
Hezekiah’s day is uncertain; but the strong King died in
697 B.C.E., and was succeeded by his twelve-year-old son,
Manasseh. The regents, who from the first set the tone of
his rule, were, of course, of the princely aristocracy, and
they proceeded to undo at once all the pro-Jerusalemite
DOCTRINE OF PEACE AND PROPHETIC MOVEMENT 431
measures introduced by Hezekiah. They saw nothing
blameworthy in the desire of the farmers for local altars
and high places. The syncretistic worship did not disturb
them, for their own was even less Judaic.
To show their loyalty to Assyria, now more powerful than
ever, they brought into the Temple itself the worship of
Astarte, the Queen of Heaven, and of the whole Assyrian
pantheon. Such reactionary and assimilatory undertakings
could not be accomplished without bloodshed, and for the
first time in its history Jerusalem was the scene of religious
martyrdom. The plebeian traders and artisans were satisfied
with the pacific acceptance of Assyrian suzerainty; indeed
little Judah could do nothing against such conquerors as
Esarhaddon, who now ruled in Nineveh, and who even
reduced Egypt. But they could see no purpose in the
acceptance of foreign gods and worship — in the spiritual
abasement before temporal power. Already impoverished by
war and its aftermath, many of them were now reduced to
hopeless beggary by the reestablishment of the local sanctu-
aries and the consequent loss of Jerusalem’s trade.
But Manasseh’s counselors ruled with an iron hand.
Isaiah himself, it is said, was executed for his protest against
this assimilationist reaction.*^ The remnant of his party
were driven into Marrano-like concealment. Its leaders
were eflFectually silenced, so that no word of prophecy has
been preserved from the whole of Manasseh’s reign.
The assimilationist movement was not, however, confined
to worship; it extended to the whole of life. This we know
from Zephaniah, a prophet who arose immediately after the
end of Manasseh’s terrorism. “And it shall come to pass
[in the day of the Lord’s sacrifice],” he says, “that I will
punish the princes, and the king’s sons, and all such as are
432
THE PHARISEES
clothed with foreign apparel” (1.8).““ Speaking at the same
time, Jeremiah, incensed at the change of worship, condemns
it primarily as betrayal of inherited custom:
“Hath a nation changed its gods,
Which yet are no gods?
But My people hath changed its glory.
For that which doth not profit ....
For My people have committed two evils:
They have forsaken Me, the fountain of living waters.
And hewed them out cisterns, broken cisterns.
Which can hold no water” (2.11 IF.).
But while the prophetic party could be driven into a
spore-like trance, it could not be utterly destroyed. Rooted
in the economic life of the people, its teachings needed but
the refreshing influence of more favorable conditions to be
restored to full vitality. There are indications that the
pietists, unable to bring their sacrifices either to the Temple
which had been defiled, or outside of it because of their
belief that it alone was God’s chosen sanctuary, were driven
to the establishment of private prayer meetings as a new
mode of worship. Hitherto prayer had been frequently
resorted to, but only as supplementing sacrifice. The much
harassed pietists who remained loyal to their partisan
teachings were now fast becoming convinced that the
animal oflFering was unnecessary and that real com-
munion with God could be had only through prayer. A
member of the school, living somewhat later, but writing in
the spirit of teachings inaugurated during this period,
attributed to Solomon a prayer at the dedication of the
Temple which would make of the sanctuary not a place for
hecatombs and holocausts but of a “house of prayer for all
DOCTRINE OF PEACE AND PROPHETIC MOVEMENT 433
nations.” “And hearken Thou,” he asks of God, “to the
supplication of Thy servant and of Thy people Israel when
they shall pray toward this place; yea, hear Thou in heaven
Thy dwelling place; and when Thou hearest, forgive”
(I Kings 8.30). And then he continues, “Moreover con-
cerning the stranger that is not of thy people Israel when
he shall come out of a far country for Thy name’s sake —
for they shall hear of Thy great name, and of Thy mighty
hand, and of Thine outstretched arm — when he shall come
and pray toward this house; hear Thou in heaven Thy
dwelling-place, and do according to all that the stranger
calleth to Thee for; that all the peoples of the earth may
know Thy name, to fear Thee, as doth Thy people Israel,
and that they may know that Thy name is called upon
this house which I have built” (ibid. 41-3). Throughout
the thirty-nine verses composing this remarkable prayer,
there is not a single mention of the altar or bloody sacrifices.
The unsuspecting reader might suppose that the structure
to which it refers was a great synagogue instead of a place
intended for the regular Temple ritual.^®
Entirely under the control of the Assyrians and con-
temptuous of the plebeians, Manasseh could hardly have
been aware of the deepened religious spirit which was
permeating the submerged opposition. Still less could he
have understood the forces which, released during the long
respite of his peaceful reign, were destined to produce a
new and invigorated prophetic party before the end of
the century. As in the early days of Hezekiah, before he
had joined the conspiracy against Assyria, so now Jerusalem
was the unrivaled trade center for the whole of Palestine.®*
The country had long since recovered from the destruction
wrought by Sennacherib. Fields were again being ploughed
434
THE PHARISEES
and planted; the shops and roads were once more busy;
the land had returned to normalcy. The Chronicler
(II 3 33.11) does indeed speak of a rebellion of Manasseh
against Assyria, but the record is unsupported by the Book
of Kings, which would certainly have made mention of
such momentous facts as Manasseh’s being led in captivity
to Assyria, his repentance, and his return to power. The
Assyrian annals tell of Assur-bani-pal’s invasion of the
coast country, but are silent about any trouble in Judah.
We are thus left to assume that the story in Chronicles
was merely intended to emphasize the importance and
value of repentance.
With the ordinary commerce of the country flourishing,
the artisan and trading classes of Jerusalem, who had lost
their influence in the tragic years at the end of Hezekiah’s
reign, were regaining prestige and power. We have already
seen to what an extent their personal interests coincided
with the teachings of prophecy. They could easily be
convinced of the wickedness of the agricultural rites so
much favored in rural sections; and they were ready to
move for the concentration of worship at the capital. Their
superior sophistication enabled them to understand the
conception of One Invisible God; while their being massed
in a large city made it possible for them to create new
urban customs, replacing the older rural ceremonies in
which they had no interest. Nothing in their experience
called for gods and goddesses of fertility; the sex customs
associated with Canaanite worship were revolting to them.
The idolatrous priests seemed mere profligates; the prophets
defending them downright deceivers. The plebeians might
be forced by hostile rulers to submit to the current religion;
but no sooner was the hand of the oppressor removed than
DOCTRINE OF PEACE AND PROPHETIC MOVEMENT 435
they would of necessity return to their natural tendency to
side with the prophets. Persecution was inevitably helpless
against a faith that drew its strength neither from logic nor
sentimentality, but from the economic and social life of its
adherents. Setting themselves against such natural forces,
Manasseh and his courtiers were like Thor trying to empty
the horn which the crafty giants had connected with the
eternal ocean itself. The more he drank, the more water
appeared, for even a god is no match for the endless,
aboriginal sea.
Manasseh died in his sin and was succeeded by his equally
worthless son, Amon, whose only virtue, from the prophetic
point of view, consisted in the brevity of his reign. In
639 B.C.E. he was assassinated, and there came to the
throne his eight-year-old child, Josiah, who, remaining
under the tutelage of regents and guardians for a time,
ultimately restored the policies of Hezekiah and reversed
completely the trend of the preceding fifty-seven years.
Times were propitious for such a change. The Assyrian
Empire, whose favor Manasseh had continuously sought,
was now rapidly declining. The great Scythian invasion,
which began about the year 640, had apparently initiated
the fatal attack on the Empire; and when Assur-bani-pal
died in 626 B.C.E., it must have been clear to some
observers that the end of his Empire could not be long
delayed. His many bitter conflicts, his fierce ravaging of
subject countries, his ruthless revenge had only staved off
the evil day. His weaker successors could not hold the
reins of power in their hands. In the year 625 B.C.E.,
Nabopolassar, a Chaldean, was appointed Babylonian
viceroy, and the foundations for revolt were thus laid.
Before two decades had passed, the mighty city of Nineveh
436
THE PHARISEES
yielded to the joint armies of Medes and Chaldeans and
reaped the bitter harvest of hatred which her kings had for
two centuries sown throughout the known world. Fire and
sword mercilessly destroyed everything; man, woman and
beast; house, temple and fortress. Buried under dust and
debris, the city’s very name was wiped from the face of
the earth, so that later historians could not identify its
place. Only the modern archaeologist, with his map and
his spade, has at last restored its remains to view.
Not many years passed before the victorious Babylonians,
risen to new power, sought to impose their rule on the
whole of the Empire. But pending their rise, the nations of
Western Asia breathed freely. As early as 645 B.C.E. the
Assyrians had withdrawn from Egypt, and not long after-
ward their hold on Palestine began to slacken. Thus from
the beginning of his reign, Josiah had the opportunity,
which had come to his great-grandfather before him, of
making Judah coterminous with Israel. But again, as in
Hezekiah’s day, the conquest of the northern lands was not
to be made by soldiers and the sword, but by the infiltration
of merchants, craftsmen and artisans.
The year 626 B.C.E., when Josiah attained his majority
and when Assur-bani-pal, the last of the great Assyrian
kings, died, marked the beginning of Jeremiah’s prophecy.
This can hardly be a coincidence. It is obvious that the
new king had already decided to befriend those whom his
father had persecuted, and that he felt free to do so without
interference from his Assyrian suzerain.
Jeremiah’s early prophecies are filled with demands for
reformation of the village sanctuaries. In 621 B.C.E. the
king finally undertook the purification of the Temple from
the last remnants of the foreign worship which his grand-
DOCTRINE OF PEACE AND PROPHETIC MOVEMENT 437
father had introduced. This was, in effect, a formal decla-
ration of independence from Assyria, whose gods had stood
in the Temple for almost fifty years.
In the course of the cleaning and rebuilding process,
Hilkiah, the priest, came upon the ancient code, which had
lain hidden in the sacred precincts since the days of
Hezekiah, prohibiting the provincial sanctuaries and con-
centrating all religious authority as well as worship in the
capital. Josiah lost no time in putting the ordinances into
effect and, imitating the ruthlessness which the Judaite
kings had learned from their Assyrian masters, he proceeded
to destroy every last vestige of village worship in the land.
The reformation could not be carried out without harsh-
ness, cruelty, and widespread suffering. The prophetic
following, embittered by the persecution which Manasseh
had visited on them, turned on their opponents, breaking
down and defiling their altars and houses of worship, dis-
possessing their priests and destroying all memory of
idolatry and provincial sanctuaries. Deuteronomic law had
provided that the village priests should have equal rights
with those of Jerusalem in the central sanctuary, but the
leaders of the Reformation could not bring themselves to
admit into the sacred portals those who had so recently
been their foremost antagonists. “Nevertheless,” the record
tells us, “the priests of the high places came not up to the
altar of the Lord in Jerusalem, but they did eat unleavened
bread among their brethren” (II Kings 23.9). In other
words, they were given some of the minor priestly dues,
but not the major rights in the meat sacrifices of the
Temple.
It was inevitable that political power should remain in
the hands of the nobility. Mankind had not yet progressed
438
THE PHARISEES
to the Stage where workers and traders could actually
control a government. But the plebeians, who recalled the
persecutions of Manasseh and the violent revulsion against
them under his reign, were loath to trust the sincerity of
the reformation. They recalled similar changes under
Hezekiah and knew how little they affected the people’s
hearts or their daily lives. When a delegation representing
King Josiah came to Huldah, the prophetess, to ask her
opinion about the newly discovered Book of the Law, she
said to them, “Thus saith the Lord, the God of Israel:
‘Tell ye the man that sent you unto me: Thus saith the
Lord: Behold, I will bring evil upon this place, and upon
the inhabitants thereof, even all the words of the book
which the king of Judah hath read; because they have
forsaken Me, and have offered unto other gods, that they
might provoke Me with all the work of their hands; there-
fore My wrath shall be kindled against this place, and it
shall not be quenched.’ ” Nevertheless, she was willing to
give Josiah the comforting assurance that if he carried out
the will of God he would be gathered to his grave in peace,
“neither shall thine eyes see the evil which I will bring upon
this place” (II Kings 22.15 flF.).
Jeremiah, too, admiring Josiah for his courage and his
virtue, yet realized that the reformation depended on too
uncertain factors. Isaiah had believed that Jerusalem
would never be taken by the foreign conqueror; but that
had been in the golden age of Hezekiah, when Messianic
possibilities seemed near, when the royal power seemed
adequate to meet the difficult problems of the state and
the faith, when the prophets had not yet taken the full
measure of the opposition to their policies. Since that day
Manasseh and his counselors had disillusioned the most
DOCTRINE OF PEACE AND PROPHETIC MOVEMENT 439
sanguine. Jeremiah and his group realized that the nobility
and the gentry might be pushed into the background for a
moment, but their restoration was as inevitable as the
return of the tides. Only exile and deportation could bring
about a reconstruction of the Commonwealth. The awful
predictions of Deuteronomy would have to be fulfilled before
the patricians and the gentry would be sufficiently chastened
to accept prophetic guidance.
The fears of the prophets were justified all too grimly.
In the year 608 B.C.E. Pharaoh Necho of Egypt, realizing
the waning power of Assyria and hoping to annex Western
Asia to his African dominion, undertook an expedition
against Nineveh. Josiah went to meet him at Megiddo, in
northern Palestine, to discuss the status of his kingdom in
the event of Pharaoh’s victory. Apparently dissatisfied with
Josiah’s attitude toward himself, Pharaoh slew him. His
body was brought back to Jerusalem for burial and imme-
diately the ‘am ha-arez, who had been in the background so
long, reasserted their right to appoint the king. Passing
over Eliakim, the eldest son of Josiah, they chose Jehoahaz,
the second son, who presumably agreed with their anti-
Egyptian, militaristic policy. But the reasons which made
Jehoahaz acceptable to the ‘am ha-arez made him unaccept-
able to Pharaoh, who sent for him from his camp at Riblah,
and as soon as he arrived, threw him in chains, to be taken
to Egypt. Reversing the selection of the ‘am ha-arez.
Pharaoh appointed Eliakim king, changing his name to
Jehoiakim.
Soon afterward Necho was defeated at Carchemish by
the young Nebuchadnezzar, King of Babylonia, who showed
himself heir to the ability and ambition as well as the
440
THE PHARISEES
ruthlessness of the Assyrians. The effort to extend the
dominion of Pharaoh into Asia was frustrated; Babylonia,
not Egypt, was to succeed Assyria. Again as in Hezekiah’s
day, Judah had to choose its master and now, as then, the
aristocrat favored Egypt, the plebeian Mesopotamia.
Jehoiakim, placed on the throne by Pharaoh and repre-
senting the nobility, was definitely pro-Egyptian; yet he
realized that the country needed, above all, to be welded
together again into a single unit. He desisted from all
persecution, permitted the rural high places to be rebuilt
and their priests to return to them, and at the same time
gave full recognition and protection to the central sanctuary
in Jerusalem.
The extent to which Judah became subject to Babylonia
after the battle of Carchemish is uncertain. Probably
Nebuchadnezzar’s rule was not at first more severe than
that of Assyria had been during the last years of its decline.
The Babylonians, having defeated Egypt, were apparently
satisfied at first with obtaining expressions of fealty and
friendship from the Judaite buffer state, separating them
from their great enemy in Africa. But as Nebuchadnezzar’s
power increased, he began to dream of a great Babylonian
Empire similar to that of Assyria, which had just been
overthrown. It must have been exorbitant demands which
at length, in the year 598, drove Jehoiakim, the careful and
cautious ruler, into revolt. Nebuchadnezzar lost no time in
invading the land; he laid siege to the capital and finally
took it. Jehoiakim had died during the war and was
succeeded by his eighteen-year-old son, Jehoiachin, whom
Nebuchadnezzar carried off to Babylonia, together with "all
men of might, even seven thousand, and the craftsmen and
the smiths a thousand, all of them strong and apt for war.”*'
DOCTRINE OF PEACE AND PROPHETIC MOVEMENT 441
Nebuchadnezzar then appointed Josiah’s third son king,
changing his name to Zedekiah.
The ruler of the dwindling state was at heart a member
of the prophetic, pacifist party, as his brother, Jehoahaz,
and their father, Josiah, had been. But he was weak and
fickle, altogether unable to withstand the pressure of the
nobles. Again and again he made overtures to Jeremiah
but found it impossible to follow the counsel of the prophet.
False prophets, representing the views of the gentry, were
continually urging him to rebellion; Egypt was sending its
agents and promising assistance; the army officers who were
in Babylonia demanded action for their deliverance.
In the first years of his reign Zedekiah sent agents to
Babylon to offer homage to the king; but apparently this
was unsatisfactory to Nebuchadnezzar, for in the fourth year
Zedekiah himself undertook the long journey.^® Jeremiah
took advantage of each of these occasions to send letters to
the exiles in Babylonia. That he was able to do this
indicates that the ambassadors sent in the first instance, and
some of the members of the entourage which accompanied
Zedekiah in the second, were of the prophetic following.
Finally, in 588, Zedekiah, no longer able to restrain the
princes, entered upon his fatal rebellion against Babylonia.
Within a few months the great army of Nebuchadnezzar
appeared in Judah and encamped against the walls of
Jerusalem. Hundreds of the prophetic party deserted the
defenders and threw themselves on the mercy of the
Chaldeans. Zedekiah’s courage, never strong, altogether
failed him and he turned to Jeremiah for advice. But the
prophet’s warning to yield could not be carried out by the
vacillating king, so powerless was he in the hands of his
courtiers.
442
THE PHARISEES
In July, 586 B.C.E., the Chaldeans made a breach in the
wall and entered the city. The King fled but was pursued
and captured near Jericho. Brought to Riblah before
Nebuchadnezzar, he was adjudged guilty of treason, blinded
and taken in fetters to Babylonia. Some seventy others of
the nobility, including the chief priest, and his second, were
condemned to death by the King. The walls of Jerusalem
were torn down, the Temple and all the important houses
burned, and the city left in ruins. Archaeological exca-
vations show that similar devastation overtook all the other
important centers of Judaite life.®^ A large portion of the
population was sentenced to deportation but “the poorest
of the land” were left behind to look after the fields and
vineyards (II Kings 25.12).
The Babylonian general Nebuzaradan dealt kindly with
Jeremiah, in whom he recognized the leader of the paci-
fists (Jer. 39.11 ff.). Even more significantly he appointed
as governor of the land a member of the prophetic party,
Gedaliah, whose father, Ahikam, the son of Shaphan, had
on several important occasions figured as a friend of the
plebeians. In fact, thirty-five years earlier, he had been a
member of the delegation sent by King Josiah to the proph-
etess, Huldah, for advice regarding the newly discovered
Book of the Law (II Kings 22.12), and during the reign of
Jehoiakim he had once saved Jeremiah from the death
which threatened him (Jer. 26.24).**
But Gedaliah’s rule was brief. Within two months he was
murdered by one of the princes who had escaped the soldiers
of Nebuchadnezzar. With him the last vestige of Jewish
self-government disappeared. A Babylonian governor suc-
ceeded him and Judah became simply a district within the
Empire.
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